


If You Can't Sleep

by theglamourfades



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Early in Canon, F/M, Falling In Love, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 09:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglamourfades/pseuds/theglamourfades
Summary: An early night beckons for Anna, but like so many before this one, she finds that rest isn't coming so easily to her. But then it occurs to her that being wide awake in the middle of the night isn't a new problem...a series of some of Anna's sleepless nights, from DA Series 1 to an imagined S3.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of the first fics I wrote, all the way back in 2012. It follows the general narrative of DA S1 & 2, and features an AU S3 (as S3 has not started airing at the point of writing), with frequent jumps back in time.

Anna closed the door behind her, hearing it give out a small creak that barely broke the quiet of the room. She propped herself up against it, letting herself slouch slightly as her daytime façade fell away fast from her demeanour. Surveying the dimly-lit space, it seeming to have shrunk within the few hours it had been vacant, she let out a sigh. "Here we go again," she said to herself and the silence.

It was not a prospect she relished: another long night, devoid of almost any semblance of serenity or respite, although she really should have been used to them by now, or at the very least built up some kind of defence. She would have to try to come up with something soon, otherwise she really would be of no use. This night, just at its beginning, was to be the same as all the ones that had gone before it and the many that lay ahead. She had tried not to keep count of those that had gone by, although some place in her mind was unfailingly conscientious in marking them, imprinting them within her. Instead, her conscious self noted the landmarks. One of them had passed just two nights ago: five hundred and forty nine. It wouldn't be that long to a thousand, yet at the same time it would be an eternity. Innumerable milestones along her road, stretching out far into the horizon, much further than her eye could see. Hours upon hours upon hours. As she took off her apron and dress, unpinned the frill from her hair and let out the first lacing of her corset, she sighed deeper.

This night would be even longer. Mrs Hughes had given her leave an hour earlier than usual, the house being virtually empty; only the Earl was there at present, Lady Mary having gone to London with Mr Crawley, and the Countess and Lady Edith in Ireland visiting Lady Sybil to see their grandson and nephew for the first time. For the past year and a half, and every night without fail, Mrs Hughes insisted upon dismissing Anna a little before everyone else, even if it was only by ten minutes.  _"It might just be enough to set you off to a good sleep; God knows you need it."_ The gesture had not gone unnoticed and uncomplained about.

"I don't see why she should still be getting special treatment, not while the rest of us are expected to work well past our bedtimes. Twenty two years I've been here and not once have I been let off a second before I should, though I work my fingers to the bone."

Miss O'Brien, the embers of empathy she'd possessed long since burnt away. Anna braced herself for a tirade about how she should have 'shacked up' with someone about to be convicted, lest it give her a longed-for early night, before Mrs Hughes interjected.

"Anna works extremely hard, I dare say much harder than any of us, and she deserves all the rest afforded to her. She also doesn't squander hours of her working time out of doors puffing away on cigarettes."

O'Brien shot a sharp look across the table at Anna, who turned her head away, arose and went towards Mrs Hughes. "I'm very thankful, Mrs Hughes, but I'm perfectly happy to stay here and do whatever needs to be done before I retire."

"There's no need," Mrs Hughes began, "We're only making needless work for ourselves as it is. You never know what wonders an extra hour can do." She smiled at Anna, knowing that her words while appreciated were severely doubted by the younger woman. "Besides, I have the final say down here. Now go and get yourself to bed." As much as she would have rather taken on all the work that remained and everybody else's tasks for the next week to occupy herself for as long as she could, Anna had long since learnt that there was no use in arguing with the housekeeper, and so did exactly what she was told.

Finishing brushing her hair, she looked at herself in the mirror she sat in front of, observing for herself what Mrs Hughes had seen and been so concerned about in her face. She did look quite awful, the sleeplessness and exhaustion of months taking its inevitable toll on her. Her eyes heavy-lidded and ringed with darkness, made more noticeable in contrast to the pallid complexion of her face. Tiny lines had started to settle upon her forehead and she swept her fingers lightly over the creases before pulling both hands to her head exasperatedly. She hoped she didn't look this bad in the daylight, and definitely not when she went to visit him. Even though she knew better, believed him fervently when he said he would love her  _however, whatever, whenever_ , she still retained some vanity, more for him than herself. In this unusual position, it was one of the few small ways she could show that she was a good and dutiful wife, striving to bring some light and hope into his life when he was surrounded daily by darkness.

In the earlier months she had looked forward to the hours of night, willed them to close in quicker than they did. They were a welcome refuge, a sacred haven. As the dusk fell upon the day, she could similarly shroud herself in her despair selfishly and unseen; writhing, wallowing, sobbing with heaved breaths into her pillow, until worn out, she would manage to slide into dreamless drowsiness, able to forget it all for a little while. But it was not long until that phase was replaced with one that had persisted ever since; the interminable nights, lying awake, waiting patiently for the sunrise to free her but temporarily. She was still in a cocoon here, shut off from the vastness of the rest of the house, but her mind had opened up into whole other realms, wide and expansive, unending and unrelenting. She was unable to escape from her thoughts as they charged and consumed her. She was always thinking, thinking only ever of him, at every moment.  _How was he this very moment, how had he been the hour before, the one before that._ She hoped they hadn't been cruel to him, allowed him some peace. She wished she was with him, that he could be there with her. The thoughts of him never leaving her head; she would feel worse if they ever did. But some sleep, just a mere hour undisturbed, would be wonderful. Maybe it would bring easier thoughts.

Before she pulled back the covers and blankets and climbed in, she carefully kneeled down at the foot, resting her elbows on the bed and joining her hands together. She did the same thing every night; said a silent prayer for his safety and wellbeing. There was a time when she would also pray for his release, but she knew deep down that was too much to ask for now: nothing had come to light, not even the slightest scrap of evidence for or against, inexistent expectation fading. It was pointless to plead for the impossible, and in the circumstances it was his welfare that mattered to her most so that's what she appealed for. He would tell her that was pointless too, but she knew it wasn't. It was the very least she could do: the only way she could think possible at present for some part of them to be together at all times. That was more than enough reason to keep on doing it.

She gently blew out the candle at her bedside and settled down. Oh, she hoped Mrs Hughes was right: she wasn't sure how much longer she could exist like this, on very little sleep and with her energy fast depleting. Her first thought was to clamp her eyes shut regardless, to try and force slumber upon herself, but that would be no good: whenever she did that, all she could see in every corner of her mind was the dull, damp, cold cell. John shivering in the shadows, tossing and turning, crying out as his knee convulsed in pain; crying out in desperation. Her eyes stayed firmly open.

It occurred to her, suddenly, that she was hardier than she had imagined, that she had vastly underestimated her ability to run quite well on little sleep; had in fact been accustomed to sleepless nights at Downton for years upon years. When all of those nights had passed by she'd never complained: she'd done quite the opposite. The thought struck her so clearly and she nearly burst out laughing in the dead stillness because of it. Maybe she had become finally quite delirious. But no, what amused her was perfectly reasonable: that the source of her present insomnia was one and the same as it had ever been.

* * *

She lay on her back in her bed, blankets riffled every which way around her, staring up at the ceiling. She had gotten really rather frustrated now. Every method she had tried had been to no avail. Pacing about the small length of the room was fruitless, and painful to perform on tiptoe; she had little inclination for getting any serious reading done; any sheep that she'd herded in her head had seemed to have made a swift dash from their pen. The last resort was to shut her eyes tight, hoping that some synapse would be fooled into thinking she was already in a deep sleep, but after half an hour, and with every other part of her still wide awake, she gave up on that idea.

This wakefulness in the early hours was becoming a frequent occurrence for Anna; she'd spent most of the past week in exactly the same manner, getting an hour's sleep at most before being roused back into a very acute consciousness that lasted most of the night. What was particularly unsettling was that the insomnia was accompanied by a strange sensation in her stomach; not something that was strictly unpleasant, nor akin to sickness (though she had wondered a couple of nights previous whether the meat in Mrs Patmore's stew could have been to blame, but alas, she had been proved wrong) but entirely unlike any feeling she'd experienced before: fluttering, burning, tingling with a fierce intensity. It refused to go away as much as rest refused to find her.

She half-sat up, propping herself on her elbows and swivelling her body to face the adjoining bed on her right side. "Gwen," she whispered fairly loudly. "Gwen, are you awake?" The turning and shuffling under the covers along with a muffled moan told her that her friend and roommate was not. Anna lay back down, resuming her enthrallment in gazing at the fine cracks on the ceiling, before deciding that she'd had quite enough. A change of scenery was what was needed, she thought. That, and her usual remedy for sleeplessness. Getting out of bed, she pulled on her bed-jacket and crept stealthily out of the room, making her way softly downstairs.

Even though she was quite sure that not a soul would be up at this hour, she made sure her steps were silent as she padded along to the hall, candle in hand. As she approached the doorway, a large yawn escaped from her, along with an accompanying tired whimper at it. Embarrassed for no reason, she said "Oh dear me," and rubbed her hands across her face before continuing into the room.

"You sound quite worn out."

Anna wasn't sure if she was hearing things, that her sleepless state was to blame for conjuring up illusions. She rubbed her eyes once more, blinking in the dim candlelight, and then she took the figure in, sitting alone at the table, book in hands.

"Mr Bates," she said, startled, but with an instinctive smile in her voice as she did so. He smiled warmly at her in return, his eyes crinkling softly, and she felt the fluttering at the centre of her stomach increase, whirl faster. She realised with a certain horror that she was standing in front of him in her nightgown, and pulled her bed-jacket tighter across her chest. She noticed that neither did he appear as she was used to seeing him; in a white under-vest with braces across it, and his hair looser than of a daytime. He looked very attractive, she thought. A burning flushed across her cheeks at the train of thought her mind had entered into, and the whole situation before her. She found she was hovering hesitantly in the doorway, and felt quite silly for not making any decisive movement. Her feet shuffled awkwardly beneath her.

"I didn't know you were down here. Forgive me, I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll leave you in peace with your reading."

He shook his head. "I'm not getting all that much done anyway, I don't think I'm in quite the right frame of mind for it. Please, don't leave on my account. Really, this is more your place than it is mine…" Pushing his chair with as little noise as possible, he made to rise from the table.

"Oh no, Mr Bates, I insist…please don't feel you have to…not when you've made yourself comfortable…" Anna found she had rushed into the room, going across to him and holding out her arms to take his, before getting a grip on her senses. She really was not thinking properly; he wouldn't want or need her to help him up like he was some incapable invalid. Realising this, she instead took a step back and held her hands resting against her as she looked up at him. "Why don't we both stay here?" she suggested, out of nowhere. "If you don't mind, that is…"

"Of course I wouldn't," he replied before she could continue further. "It would be very good to have the company." He smiled at her again as they sat down across the table from each other, and her eyes flickered to the floor for a few seconds shyly before she answered his with her own. A short silence fell between them, but all of her initial unease had completely deserted her.

"So," he began, "are you often up wandering about in the small hours?"

Anna laughed softly. "Well, not quite. It could be quite useful though; I could get through so much cleaning, and quite surprise Mrs Hughes when she awoke and found there wasn't anything to be done!"

He joined her in laughing; she hadn't heard him do so before, it was such a nice sound.

"I don't really wander anyway; I just come here when I'm having trouble sleeping. It doesn't happen all the time, but often enough, I suppose." She thought about telling him of the particular sleeplessness she'd had over the last few nights, but for some reason refrained. "I think I'm something of a night owl, anyway. I always seem to quite come to life once the night comes, even if it's been a horrendously long day. I much prefer it to the morning: oh, I'm just horrific of a morning, really terrible."

His eyes shone in the near-darkness. "Are you really? I can't say I've noticed you be anything other than perfectly sunny, at any time of day."

She felt her blushes start to rise again. "You've not been here long, Mr Bates. I'm sure you'll see quite soon that it's just a show. At least if you ever catch me before I've had a cup of tea."

"Well, I'll make it my duty to stay out of your way before then."

"Good." She nodded her head in mock-serious approval at his comment, trying to keep a straight face before breaking out into a wide smile. It was quite infectious, even in the middle of the night on an hour's sleep. "How about you, Mr Bates? Is it common for you to have sleepless nights? Oh, I do hope it's not because you're in any way uncomfortable here…"

"No, no, it's nothing to do with being here, although I suppose it does take a while to get used to new surroundings. I do find it hard to get a restful night, have done for years. It's a force of habit; you never quite shake off the perpetual alertness that comes with being placed in the thick of a battleground. And then of course, this doesn't help matters much…" He propped his leg up on the chair next to him, flexing it and shifting in his seat as he did so, grimacing ever so slightly.

"Oh, I can only imagine." Anna's face turned solemn. "Does it cause you a lot of pain?" She immediately mentally reprimanded herself, not wanting to spoil the atmosphere by prying.

"It can be temperamental. Some nights are worse than others. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but it never fails to surprise…it's more than a bit of an annoyance, but it's bearable. It has to be."

Anna felt her features wrinkle in concern. "Still, we should see if we can get anything to help. I'm sure there's something that Mrs Hughes has, or can at least get hold of easily enough at the village." She stopped herself from saying anything more about it, then added: "There is something…it won't do anything for the pain, unfortunately, but it should help you get off to sleep. It's the thing I always rely on, anyway."

He regarded her with a pointed eye. "Oh? What would that be, then?"

"A glass of warm milk. Whenever I'm having trouble sleeping, it does just the trick. I'll be off snoring in no time after drinking it."

He chuckled, and she thought she shouldn't have confessed that she wasn't an entirely graceful sleeper, although why she should be hesitant in mentioning that fact she wasn't quite sure. "I shall definitely have to try it sometime."

"I assure you it'll work, you have my word." She smiled. "Mr Bates, I really am so glad you stayed. I know it was all to do with Lord Grantham; you know him better as a man than I, but he's a very fair and good employer, so I was sure he would see sense." She hesitated for a second or two, before continuing. "Even though you haven't been here all that long, you've really made a difference to things. We're very lucky to have a man like you at Downton." Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him looking at her intently, but her words didn't falter. "I know I would have hated to see you go. I can't think of anyone else who could possibly take your place, and I would have been very unfair to whoever came to replace you. I'm very happy it didn't come to that."

"I am too. And thank you for saying so, Anna. Sincerely." She shivered as her name escaped his lips, wrapping her jacket tighter around her again. "If only everyone shared your opinion."

She knew exactly who he was referring to; it was no secret. "Oh, I am so sorry about Thomas and Miss O'Brien. They're always rather funny with new people, but they have been so appalling to you and it makes me furious. There's absolutely no need for it. All I can think is that it must be jealousy, plain and simple. But I am sorry for them. You must wish you had gone elsewhere half the time."

"Not at all. Besides, I've dealt with much worse than what they have to give out." They mirrored each other's posture and expression at the table. "I've found that all of the good people here by far outweigh a couple of bad pennies."

"Of course; like I say, I'm quite sure you know the Granthams much better than the rest of us do…"

An assured smile spread over his face as she spoke, casting her gaze away from his. She really didn't know how modest she was, and couldn't have known he had someone much closer in mind.

* * *

Anna sprang out of bed as the sun arose, opening the curtains wide to the chagrin of a still-sleepy Gwen. "What a lovely day it's going to be," she announced cheerily, letting the sunlight fall on her face through the window, feeling incredibly bright for someone who'd only had an hour and a half's worth of solid sleep.

"Ohhhhh, it's too light," Gwen grumbled, tangled in her bedcovers and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Surely it can't be morning already."

"Well, it is." Anna skipped about the room, making the bed speedily and gathering her things. "A beautiful one at that. Don't you just want to jump up?"

"In a word, no." Gwen was absolutely bemused; this couldn't be the same Anna who moaned every morning about how she wished she could just turn over and go back to sleep. "What's got into you, being so full of the joys? You're not complaining…for probably the first time ever."

"I don't complain! Much…" Anna saw Gwen pull a face behind her as she sat in front of the mirror and laughed to herself. "Besides, I had such a nice sleep, really deep. It was strange, as I was wide awake for a good part of the night, but you know what did its usual magic." She jumped up from the seat. "I must remember to take the glass downstairs before anyone else gets up…oh." She was rather puzzled to find that there was no glass at her bedside, nor anywhere else around the room. She must have left it downstairs. Or, did she even have any at all? She stood in deep thought, hairbrush in her hand, while Gwen let out a giggle.

"There is definitely something up with you."

As she made her way downstairs dressed and ready, adjusting the frill in her hair, she saw him standing at the bottom of the stairs, cane tapping steadily and quietly.

"Mr Bates," she said brightly. "Good morning."

He turned around on hearing her voice, smiling as he saw her face. "Good morning, Anna. I hope you managed to sleep quite soundly eventually."

"I certainly did, very soundly indeed." They walked side by side towards the hall, her matching every one of his steps. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did." He looked ahead as they went on, before stopping both their strides and turning to face Anna, bending slightly down towards her. "It was quite amazing, actually. I'm sure of it when I say I had the best sleep I've had in years last night. Exactly why I can't be certain, but it might have been something to do with having better company before bed than just that book."

He smiled at her before he walked ahead, leaving her standing in the same spot, slightly flustered but quite amused indeed. She watched him as he entered the hall and drifted out of her view, and a grin found its way to her face. It was going to take considerably more than warm milk to soothe her from now on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning: there is reference to an attempted assault in this chapter. This was written before S4, so now the fact that I even went there makes me sad.

Before they ceased to be some time ago, her unconscious dreams had been reliably peaceful. Sometimes they revisited happy memories from childhood; sometimes they provided alluring visions of a future not entirely beyond her reach. Often they were trivial: another version of a not particularly exciting event of the day, an incident in the kitchen or in one of the other rooms of the house as she was going about her duties, made more amusing by some slightly strange embellishment. Frequently, and after he had arrived, they became quite pleasant indeed, causing her to awake feeling flustered and with a smile firmly upon her lips, wishing only that the dreams could continue into the daylight.

She was very rarely troubled by what could be termed nightmares, could count on one hand the instances of them she'd had in her whole life. She had fully expected for this to have changed, to be visited by all manner of horrifying delusions night after night, but to her surprise – and relief – they had not materialised. Perhaps it wasn't so incomprehensible considering that mere months back, and with the memory still incredibly clear, her worst nightmare had come frighteningly close to being a reality. There was nothing that her mind in its darkest recesses could now conjure up that could possibly be more terrifying.

From somewhere she suddenly recalled a recurring nightmare she'd had as a child of about seven, the only one that had blighted her relatively blissful younger years in the home she was born in. It would always begin with her in the local village, about to head back after running errands for her mother. Out of nowhere, a faceless figure – a man, given its looming height and presence – would appear in front of her and begin chasing her. Throughout the village, down roads and lanes; each time getting closer. She would run as fast as she could, throwing goods from her basket, but the figure was not deterred. One night it had followed her into their house, was running up the stairs, coming into the bedroom…she had screamed so loudly she woke her brother and sister who slept in the same room and with tears streaming down her face, had sent her mother and father out to see what the commotion was all about. Taking her to the next room, her father had perched her on his knee, rocked and reassured her. Once calm was restored and tears had dried, she stayed cradled there in his lap. Her father laid a quick kiss on the top of her head before telling her that bad dreams only ever happened because something was hiding within you, some kind of worry from the day that had been kept secret or buried away for whatever reason. They were nothing to be afraid of, and wouldn't bother her at all so long as she was open, about every problem she came across, big or small.  _You should never hide what's in your heart, Anna. Remember that._  And she did that night, as she was tucked back into bed safe and sound, not to be haunted by the phantom any longer, and every night after and since. Lying in her bed at Downton, her father's long-remembered words once again returned to her. It was just a shame that at this moment, there was nobody that she could tell about the deepest fears that lay within her. They would just have to remain hidden, possibly forever.

* * *

Since their initial and unexpected nocturnal encounter, they had gone on to have many more that were planned. It had become quite the routine for them now, lasting over a year up to this point. They did not meet every night, lest suspicions were raised and most importantly, their work be compromised by too few hours spent sleeping, but they made sure they did so at least twice a week. Anna found herself looking forward to these nights, got through her work at a quickened pace as if doing so would cause the hands of the clock to revolve faster, send everyone else away and bring them closer together where they could be alone,  _at last_. After an impatient hour, of which she would have to stop herself from climbing out of bed and down the stairs every five minutes, she would arise and find him already there, waiting for her. They would sit next to each other in the hall, sometimes if the night was fine enough in the courtyard where they would manage to garner a few minutes together during the day, and talk, laugh, share in the serene silence of Downton after dark, and simply be with one another. Sometimes, a story would be accompanied by a brush of ankles or a hand swiftly placed on a knee, to make a point. Accidental or intentional, Anna was never quite sure. The fact that they would linger just a little longer than was necessary seemed to suggest that perhaps the gestures served as more than physical punctuation to conversation, but she tried not to let her head, or her heart, race against her rational judgement.

Of the two of them, Anna was the chattier, the one who spoke more freely about everything. It was just part of her nature to be unreservedly sincere, even about rather silly things. Sometimes she did wonder if she was too open, shared too much, but he didn't seem to mind, found all she had to say quite agreeable and often humorous. She was so charmed by the sight of his smile, far more elusive of a day when they were surrounded by other people, that she found herself digging deep within her mind for anecdotes to amuse, to let it remain on his face longer. Just as he was not perturbed by her rambling, Anna did not mind that Mr Bates was much more cautious and guarded in their discussions than she. In part, she had been drawn to him precisely because of his discretion; it was a quality that was lacking in others within the house, and so she greatly admired it. Actually, in the months that they had carried out their night-time meetings she had noticed that, while some matters remained untouched upon, he was becoming more forthcoming with regard to others; in particular he would regale her with tales of his childhood in Ireland and told her all about his mother, whom she could tell he had a great love for. Such disclosure may have been in part to the unmistakable bond of friendship that had grown between them but Anna suspected it also had much to do with the circumstances of their gatherings. There was something different about him in the shade of night, she had noticed. It was as if when the darkness descended a great light had been let out within him, a spirit that had started to break down his barriers and allowed him to be easier and freer. She also hoped that this opening out of his was in a sense unique; that it was saved just for her ears to hear and her eyes to observe, and to keep for only her to know. Of course she couldn't confirm whether this was true but she still felt an incredible privilege and contentment that he felt comfortable enough to confide fragments of his life to her.

* * *

They found themselves in the hall, not having been to bed yet but remaining up after everyone else, finishing off work. Or rather, Anna still had work to do, altering one of Lady Mary's old dresses to pass to Lady Edith. Mr Bates had offered to stay and keep her company and she had not refused, even though it was not one of 'their' nights and she had noticed that he was in a considerable amount of discomfort. He had been so for a couple of weeks now and although she was worried, she decided not to say anything; she had seen over the past days how his body had shuddered and seized and his face contorted in agony despite his attempts to disguise, and heard him swiftly dismiss Mrs Hughes's enquiries about his health and capability, so thought it best not to badger him further. She also knew that he had sensed her own unease, could tell that her easygoing manner had altered considerably, and that was why he sat as close next to her at the table as was possible without disturbing her intricate work, acting not overtly but certainly with the inner intention of being her protector. She did have to accept she felt better having him at her side, wanting him to be there constantly at this present period. A disquiet had fallen upon the whole house after the shocking death of Mr Pamuk and everyone, both upstairs and downstairs, had found themselves a little shaken by the incident. Despite her best efforts not to let the after-effects of the affair show – certainly, she would not be revealing just how closely involved she was in the concealment of the unfortunately deceased man, not yet anyway – it was plain to certain eyes that Anna had not been herself since, and was not now.

Even with her intense concentration, her hands slipped and faltered on the dress. "Oh, blast!" she exclaimed, before hurrying to unpick the ruined stitching. She knew that his head had risen from the book he was reading and his eyes were now fixed on her, full of concern.

"Anna, are you alright? You should really leave that now; the light is no good for your eyes, and it won't kill Lady Edith to wait another day for a dress, she has enough already."

Anna put down the needle and swiped her hand over her forehead. "Yes, you're right. There's not too much left to be done anyway, if I get up a little earlier I can have it done before breakfast." She turned her head to face him, seeing that his look was still heavy with his more important question having gone unanswered. "And I'm fine, really. It's just been one of those days is all." She wasn't sure her answer was entirely satisfying, but she had no intention of burdening him.

His eyes softened. "You already know my feelings on the matter, but I maintain that you work yourself far too hard. You have more than your fair share to do and you seem to have taken even more on recently. I just don't want you to run yourself into the ground and make yourself ill. I worry about you."

She could hear the sincerity and warmth in his voice, and had to break gaze temporarily and swallow to stop herself from sobbing. Quickly fixing a smile upon her face, feeling it lie ill-fitting on her lips, she looked back up to him. "Well, we can't have that." The smile became a little more natural upon seeing his own. "Really, Mr Bates, there's no need for you to do so. Once I've had a good night's sleep I'll be as right as rain. I promise you. Actually, if you don't mind," she said, folding the dress up and rising, "I think I'll head up now."

He stood too, towering above her. "A very good idea. I shall do the same." He took his cane in one hand and placed his other softly on her shoulder. "I hope you have sweet dreams, Anna."

"Thank you, Mr Bates. I'll try my best."

_She was asleep in the pitch dark, peaceful, completely calm. There was a noise very close by, a quiet creak of the door. The movement of feet, coming closer. A hand clamped itself over her mouth. Not Lady Mary's – it wasn't slender and delicate, didn't belong to any woman. It was strong, its hold firm, almost suffocating her. In protest, her eyes flew open. She wriggled, tried to free herself from the grip, but that only caused the other hand to come down painfully on her wrist. The only thing she could do was scream, but no sound would leave her body…_

Anna darted up in terror, shaking, gasping for breath. Her hand flew to her mouth, then to her throat. There was nothing there, nobody there, aside from Gwen sleeping soundly in the bed next to her. She grasped the bedsheet that was slightly damp with sweat with both of her hands, fighting hard to slow down and control her breathing. She'd had the nightmare for two weeks solid now and even though she always managed to wake herself up at the same point, she had begun to be fearful of closing her eyes again afterwards in case it continued. She felt sick just contemplating what might happen next, even though it was all only an illusion.

The next night was one they had agreed to meet, and she told him about it. She hadn't planned to, but he'd looked at her instantly in the same way as he had done as she sat unravelling the faulty dress stitches, eyes deep with compassion, and it all came spilling out of her.  _You should never hide what's in your heart, Anna._ She had to try to make it go away, and her heart told her he was the only one who could help.

Holding herself, trying not to shake or waver, she told him the story of how the nightmare had come into being. About five years ago, a new footman started at Downton. Henry, his name was. A couple of years younger than Anna, though he didn't look it, and he certainly had the strength of a man who was older. Anna found him perfectly nice, even if he did stand a little near to her as she took him on a tour of the servants' quarters and kept suggesting tasks that they could take on between just the two of them. Something in her head told her that perhaps he was getting too close for comfort but she dismissed it, conceded that he was just eager to do his job to his best ability and wanted the assistance of an established and experienced resident of the house. He was just being friendly, that was all.

One evening, she'd run out of pins to take up one of the younger ladies' dresses, so went along to her room. She was searching through a drawer to find some when she was sure she could feel warm breath on the back of her neck. It must have just been the air changing; she touched her fingers to the nape for reassurance, and just as she did so, another hand, not her own, clamped firmly upon her waist. She gasped, heart pounding and flying up into her mouth, and waited for an eternal second before turning around to face the intruder. A part of her suspected it was him before she'd glimpsed his features. How had he got in? Her stomach dropped as she realised; in her haste, she'd left the door separating the female sleeping quarters from the hallway ajar. He was but inches away from her but still moved forward, closing the gap between their bodies further until only breath separated them. She took tiny steps backwards; there weren't many more she could take until her feet brushed against the skirting board. His breath on her face now, he was saying how he'd been waiting for this, for them to truly be alone, how he knew she had been longing for it too. She turned her head swiftly sideways, told him she was very sorry if he'd misunderstood her actions, it hadn't been her intention to make him think anything like that…she tried to winch herself free from his grasp on her hip, said she really had to be getting back to the hall to carry on with her work. His hand had repositioned, was snaking its way up her body. She gulped air in too fast, felt panic set fire to her. Unthinking, her body pushed itself forward to force an escape; he responded by slamming her hard against the wall, his hand fixing tight against her arm, pinning itself to it. Her arm started to throb with searing pain as he came ever closer, lips directed towards her throat…all she wanted to do was shriek out, make herself known, but the terror had rendered her completely mute.

Anna felt herself trembling at the table, her breath hitching as she recounted the past. She had thought that she'd managed to block it from her memory long ago, had erased all traces of the encounter from her mind. Since that night when Lady Mary had entered her room seeking desperate assistance over Mr Pamuk, it had all rushed back, as real and terrifying as it had ever been. The image, materialising whenever she closed her eyes, made her skin crawl, made her feel weak and small and sordid.

She was aware she hadn't spoken for over a minute, still trying to compose herself and her thoughts. Looking at him, she saw how his face had set into an expression of restrained dismay and utmost empathy; his eyes full of anguish and grief. She noticed that one of his hands had balled into a fist in his lap and was wavering ever so slightly.

His voice broke the silence that had descended. "Anna…did he harm you?"

She took a deep breath as she began once more.

"No…there had been quite a crash when he had put me against the wall and Mrs Hughes had come to see where the noise had come from."

She remembered the intense relief that had come over her when she saw the face of the housekeeper in the doorway, instantly horrified when she had witnessed Anna's frightened countenance.

"But if it hadn't have been for that door being open, and Mrs Hughes entering when she did, I don't know…I dread to even consider…"

Her voice diminished and tailed off once more and she found herself fixing her eyes to the floor. She felt his hand reach for hers across the table and took it tentatively, letting the warmth of his slightest touch envelop and soothe her.

"He was dismissed the next morning; Mrs Hughes made sure of it. She would have thrown him out on his ear at that very moment if it hadn't been in the middle of the Granthams' dining."

"I have no doubt that she would."

She whimpered a feeble chuckle. "She and Mr Carson were the only ones who ever knew. Even Mr Carson doesn't know the full story; Mrs Hughes did most of the talking, and she covered certain parts. She's always been quite protective over me but that made her more so. And I'm thankful for it." She raised her head and stared him straight in the eye, still seeing a myriad of emotions there.

"I'm honoured that you felt you could be so frank with me. There was no reason for you to tell all that and I am truly sorry that you should have relived it so vividly." His gaze fell away from hers temporarily, still taking everything that she had told him in. "I only wish I could do something to help."

She smiled truly, for the first time that night. "You have done, Mr Bates. You've helped immensely by simply sitting here, listening to me go on." She dabbed the tears that had welled in her eyes with her fingertips, watching his head tilt to observe her with kindness. "Really, I do feel like the greatest weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I think you might just have a talent."

Returning to her room later on, closing the door so carefully and climbing back into bed, she didn't feel scared to put her head down on the pillow or rail stubbornly against sleep. Instead she welcomed and embraced it, and soon drifted off into it deeply. The nightmare had gone, disappeared completely. Her father's promise, as true as ever; she really should have said something sooner. It had been replaced by a much sweeter vision and featured a much better man. They were walking in gardens somewhere, a place she had never been but that she recognised from a conversation, a story, another life. It must have been somewhere in Ireland, a place from his memory now projected into hers. It wasn't incredibly eventful; they simply walked, and talked, and sat, watching the world go by. Hands resting at sides and then joining, seemingly without thought, drawn together by the instincts of tender fingertips. The sun shone down, there was a beautiful scent of fragrant flowers in the air; she had never felt calmer, safer or more in harmony with everything.  _Sweet dreams_ , indeed; she had never had a sweeter one.

* * *

She made her way down the hallway, candle in hand, aching for rest after a long day as well as longing for some contact and conversation with him. It had not escaped her that a week had passed without containing any of their after-hours meetings; even during the day, he had seemed to keep a distance, sitting a little more out of reach and not catching her eye across the table for too long. This evening he hadn't made an appearance in the servants' quarters, having been busy accompanying Lord Grantham at a function away from Downton. She missed him, though he was not far away by any means. He appeared in her dreams every night without fail, and though it was a great comfort, it was not the same as having him really there beside her, hearing his voice and sensing his presence. She wanted to get to bed and to sleep as quickly as possible, to find him again.

Just before she turned the handle of the door, she heard another door shut not far away. Footsteps accompanied by the reliable tap of his cane. Her heart started thudding with the rhythm of the taps and she could feel the vibration against her ears.

"Anna…please excuse me, I hoped I might see you before you retired for the night."

"Mr Bates. You've caught me just in time. I was giving up on the hope of seeing you."

"I would have got back sooner but there was some trouble with the car."

His right hand twisted on the top of his cane and he seemed at a loss what to do with his left. Anna fought back a smile at his sudden nervous demeanour, which she found very endearing. He began to speak, low and hesitant.

"Anna, I'd hate for you to think that I've been ignoring you these past nights. I have had a purpose in doing so, but I fear it might have been misread. It did have something to do with what you confessed to me, but I assure you it was nothing to do with its content. I thought it would be better for you to get a few undisturbed nights' sleep to recover yourself; you certainly needed it. I didn't wish to get in the way of that."

She let another smile bloom on her face. "That's incredibly thoughtful, Mr Bates. I did need to catch up, and I can say I have enjoyed some very restful hours indeed. But I think I'm quite recovered now, and I would very much like to hear about how your week has been."

She was sure he could see the glint in her eye as she had spoken, and noticed his visibly relaxed posture.

"If you are sure you wouldn't rather retire, it would be nice not to be alone while I had something to eat." He glanced around where they stood quickly in each direction, checking the corners for any other soul. Though there was nobody to be seen anywhere, his voice remained in a hushed tone. "Besides, I don't think it would be wise for Mrs Hughes to come and find me skulking around outside the ladies' bedrooms, keeping you up."

Anna let out a giggle. "Oh, I wouldn't worry at all about Mrs Hughes. She knows what a fine man you are; she'd be in no doubt that your intentions were entirely good." She hoped she hadn't implied anything untoward by saying that, but any possible connotations did not seem to have been picked up on. She had suspected that Mrs Hughes was aware of her affection for Mr Bates, had been for some time. Words that had so often been said by the housekeeper in many other situations came into her head:  _I may be getting older, but I'm not blind, you know_.

Sitting with him once more, they rapidly fell back into familiarity, her talking away with excitement about entirely mundane events, him listening to her every word with unwavering attention. As the night went on, she couldn't fail to see even though he tried to cover them: the shadows that still remained deep in his eyes, testament to all of his secrets still undisclosed and his nightmares that remained unspoken. She'd asked him once, about the type of dreams he had. He'd only answered by saying that the good ones were so elusive as to be not considered and that the bad were so frequent they may as well have been another reality, and he was sure they were. Looking at him next to her, she felt a brief pang of sorrow which was soon replaced by an overwhelming serenity. It did not matter for now that they were hidden; she would know them one day, when he was ready to tell them. She had begun to know so much more already in the time they had spent together and she had meant it with all her heart and soul when she had said that she shouldn't care what she found out about him. There was nothing in this world that could make her think any less of him, no confession that would send her from his side. She had no fear; she knew that, eventually, they would chase the shadows and nightmares away together, leaving only dreams that could not be intruded upon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doubt Anna's room actually does look out onto the gardens. Also, excuse John going a little OOC towards the end - as much as I love his strong and silent demeanour, a fic writer has to have a little something to work with ;)

It was remarkable how the place transformed as darkness descended upon it. So busy and bustling during the daylight hours, every waking second seeming to fill with an hour's worth of activity. Tireless and unrelenting in its demands on the attention, like a hyperactive child flitting from one amusement and impatiently searching out the next. Brimming, positively overflowing with life at its most animated. And then, with one strike of the clock, a spell was cast. Everything fell away; work ceased, action suspended, life was frozen in mid-air. After that unobservable point in time that occurred with precision accuracy each night there was not a single sound to be heard in all of the rooms and corridors, not even by the most sensitive and finely-tuned ear, as the house and all of its inhabitants were smothered by slumber. To an outsider, the sudden change might have been hugely disconcerting, eerie even. But it was actually rather reassuring, this dependable switch, and possibly the only time that Downton Abbey could ever really be tamed into a smoothly-running routine, despite all of Mr Carson's best efforts.

The point had long since passed on the face of each timepiece and everybody had succumbed to the hypnotising lull, the embracing arms of the night, as usual. Everybody except Anna. Aside from the huffs and sighs of her breath, impatient for sleep to visit her too, the house was reliably silent. Yet as grand and imposing as it was, its power could not extend to stilling what lay outside of its doors. Anna lay in the black, listening intently as raindrops beat down metrically on the roof above her, accompanying and then overtaking her breathing. She had always loved listening to the rain, especially lying in bed at night, when it took on a magical quality, added another layer to the entrancing atmosphere of those hours. The steady sound of nature happening, living as she did, made her feel strongly centred, secure and completely safe. It gave her a comfort that was quite unlike any other that she could discover entirely on her own. There was also something inherently potent about it, the unremitting life-force that only the elements could possess, that made her feel similarly unrestrained, invigorated with pure liberation, equipped to face anything that stood in her way. It kept on incessantly, hammering so hard against the ceiling that she imagined any second it would cause it to cave in, drench and drown her. This downpour did not carry those dual virtues, neither relieved nor released. What would ever again, she wondered. The one thing that could afford her those sensations once more was out of her, and nature's, control.

Unsettled by the din as opposed to comforted, she rose and walked to the small window that looked out onto a mere portion of the endless, roaming gardens. A single glimpse upon them, as well as a single step within, would allow anyone to become utterly lost. She had been lost there herself before, in many ways. As one eye traced the path of the travelling droplets upon the pane, the other gazed beyond to the dimmed but still mesmerising visage of the outside world: the splendour of green immersed in shadow, the earth shimmering with both the moonlight and water that came streaming from the sky. Her breath held as the beats of the rain continued to sound.

* * *

She sat perched on a crate in the courtyard, looking out into the dark but remarkably clear midsummer sky and searching for a subtle breeze to temper the still warmth. It was an incredibly calm night, exquisite in its tranquillity, but the external ambience was at odds with what was going on inside of her and so Anna felt that she was quite out of place, a poor fit with the peace that was all around. It was not just the rising temperature that had made her restless; she had not been able to shake her unsettled feeling since she'd got back, indeed long before then, from the very moment the sentiment had left her lips. She wasn't exactly sure what she had expected in return: an acknowledgement, an expression of appreciation, a reciprocation…? The first two had appeared in some form, and she didn't deny she had felt wholly flattered and enlivened with excitement when he had called her a lady after she denied the status to herself. But at the same time she couldn't help being deflated, the flame of hope fading within her, when he did not echo the words back to her. In her dreams it had happened differently: there, she had told him a hundred times or more, and he had responded in many ways, with a lingering embrace, a heavenly kiss, a whispered reply. But it had always been affirmative; a return entirely in kind, just what she had wanted to hear. She admonished herself; she had never been the type to have her head in the clouds, knew that dreams by their very nature were miles away from reality, yet the sting was still too apparent. Perhaps it was presumptuous of her, that she had overstepped the boundaries in her eagerness to dash ahead, simply asking too much. Why should she so blindly assume that he felt anywhere near the emotion, the adoration for her as she did for him? Really, for as much as they had shared, they were still worlds apart: she untouched and innocent when it came to matters of the heart, he equipped with such immense knowledge, not just from all the volumes he had consumed, but from real, first-hand experience too. He was not a free man, she reminded herself:  _he was a married man_. A shard of glass stabbed at her chest.

Yet, she remained certain that what they had shared was different, special, exceptional. She may not have been the most practised at the art, but she had had flutterings of feelings in the past, and she knew that none of them came remotely close in comparing to what had consumed her mind, body and soul now. Without a doubt, this was real love, and she was did not regret saying so in the slightest. Maybe she could have chosen a better place or time, but none came to her mind. If she waited any longer to confess it, she would have burst. Besides, it was something he had said to her just days before that had settled the decision to come out with it sooner rather than later. He was helping her to make the bed in Lady Edith's room and they'd got to talking about the poor late Mr Patrick Crawley and what she had always considered to be Lady Edith's unrequited love for him. It was always sad, she observed, when you loved someone who didn't love you back, no matter who you were. It was a statement she said with true conviction and sympathy for Lady Edith's situation, but she had also used it to test the waters with regard to her own. His reply had pleasantly surprised her, as well as saddened her a little. While she recognised the constraints, she did not see how it could ever possibly be wrong to say that you loved a person. Wasn't it something everyone wanted to hear, the thing that everyone longed to have in their life? Even if that love couldn't be acted upon as fully as first hoped and dreamed, as was the case with them now, it did not mean that it had to be immediately put to one side and dismissed. They could overcome at least some of the obstacles in their path; they could have something, if not everything, she truly believed it. She would hold onto whatever it was with the tightest grasp, and never let it go. Anyway, she had spent her entire life doing what was right and she didn't particularly feel the better off for it. It was high time to take a risk, and let love come to light; others might be content to always keep theirs unknown, but hers would not be suppressed.

The familiar sounds were behind her and all at once she was quietened and roused into a frenzy.

"It's a beautiful night." He was standing at her side, and she felt there was to be a replay; like they were heading down that road again, as they had done just hours previously.

"It is," she replied coolly, keeping her gaze ahead of her at the calm, unmoving clouds above. She sensed him ambling closer.

"May I…?"

"Mr Bates, you don't need to ask my permission by now." She heard her voice, far harsher out loud than she had intended, and instantly wanted to snatch the words back, shamed. All she wished was for him to be a little more forthcoming over certain things. Perhaps some habits were just too hard to break.

His weight and warmth registered next to her and though she tried with all her might to hold herself collected and rigid, the moment he had sat beside her she felt herself melt. It might have also been due to the heat of the night. She knew really it was otherwise.

"It was quite an evening. Nice to have been out regardless, but I found it very enjoyable. Much better than last year." Anna was slightly surprised that he should have been so enthused about a hall full of flowers.

"I thought so too," she carried on the chatter. "I was pleased for Mr Molesley, if a little shocked at the outcome. I mean, there's no doubt he deserved to win, but in all the years I've been I've never known anyone other than the Dowager Countess to get that prize."

"Well," he began, "it goes to show that we should never rule anything out in life. We can hope and long for something to happen, without thinking it ever will, and be so surprised as to be rendered almost senseless when those expectations are finally met. It's a lesson to us all: not to let go of something even when we think it is completely lost to us."

Now his gaze was directed to the same spot on the horizon that she had found so fascinating moments ago. Even without seeing what was in his eyes, she was sure she couldn't have missed the connotation; it sounded very much like another one of his enigmatic statements, loaded with a meaning that wasn't too hard to decipher, given the circumstances. Maybe she was being presumptuous once more, but she wasn't about to wait to find out. She rushed to speak before he could say anything more, or less.

"Mr Bates, I apologise if what I said to you earlier this evening made you feel alarmed or uncomfortable in any way. It wasn't my intention at all. But I can't be sorry for saying it; I can't even try to be so. The words have been going round in my head for weeks, and have been in my heart for much longer. I've caught them as they've tried to come out many times before, but I couldn't and won't stop myself any more. I don't think it would be fair on either of us to hide. I shouldn't ever be ashamed for telling how I really feel, and least of all to you." Her heart bounded as he looked into her eyes, deeper than he had ever done before. "And I can't accept that those feelings are wrong in any way, even if everything isn't quite perfect. I dare say I'm used to the way not being smooth in life and it doesn't bother me." She placed her hand ever so delicately on his thigh, increasing the pressure of her grasp gradually to match the passion in her voice. "It does not change what I feel one little bit; it only seems to make it grow stronger. Nothing will ever change it, I can say that with certainty."

His eyes fixed themselves upon her fingers, then drifted up towards the sky as he let out a weary sigh.

"I'm not sorry to hear it. Perhaps I should be, but I'm not." She felt her heart thud relentlessly against the narrow space of her chest; she felt she might disappear any second. "I would never want you to conceal anything, especially something as precious as the love you have within you. God knows, the whole world should share in that." His own fingers settled on hers in his lap for the tiniest of moments, before they were torn away. She craved the touch even before it was taken from her. "I only wish that, for your sake, the words would have been kept for another." The shard of glass reappeared and wedged itself deeper, cutting her to shreds. "Someone who could turn them into something more, something you could delight in all of your life. Anna, your love should grow and flourish, fill hearts that haven't begun beating yet. It mustn't go to waste, be stifled and starved by someone who cannot even promise you tomorrow, never mind a future."

"I'm not thinking about the future," her hand sought out his, clasped it and held it to her chest. "All that matters to me is what we have here and now. And we can have something; we've had it for so long already, even if you haven't been aware." The expression that flowed on his face said that he was, so she kept on with her case, even if he remained silent. "We might not be able to walk out arm in arm, announce it to the world, join ourselves as one in front of everyone," – sadness washed over her as she spoke those words; she had hoped and dreamed so much that they would be able to do that, one day – "but we can hold each other here in the dark, speak our feelings to one another when we're just the two of us, be together every day, even if it's not for very long. It's a lot more than many other people ever have, and I will take it, gladly. If all we are to have forever are these nights, then I will be happy. I'd much rather have moments with the man I love than a lifetime of unending, unhappy days with anyone else."

He half-smiled at her, a smile that acknowledged the honest joy in all she had said but did not mask the real sorrow at the meaning behind it. "If only it were that simple."  _Wasn't it?_ She thought she'd made it perfectly so, at least as perfect as it ever could be. "If we continue as we are, if we use our unseen cover to…" he faltered, "…test the boundaries, sooner or later it won't be enough, and one of us, or both of us, will want more. And you should have more, Anna; you should have everything. You shouldn't be forced into living in secret…"

"I wouldn't be  _forced_ into anything, Mr Bates. It would be entirely of my own will," she interjected.

"Well, you shouldn't be resigned to it. Running around in shadows is all I've ever done, and I wouldn't drag you into them with me." He sighed once more. "And it's not only the future I'd take from you. As much as I want to, I can't forget the past forever. It will catch up with me, and as it stands I can't stop it from consuming you too." The look on his face now was one of utter defeat, and it pained her to see it etched there so profoundly. "You should give me up now, escape while it's still safe for you. I am a lost soul, Anna, and I doubt I can ever be found."

On hearing those words, she couldn't help smirking. "Why Mr Bates, what was it you said about not giving up on something you thought was lost? I believe you should act upon the lessons you learn, right away, before other ones come along to fill your head instead." She stood from the crate, to prevent her legs from going dead and more importantly, to make sure she captured his gaze completely as she continued to speak. "I think it will be enough, more than enough. For us to share and show love, in whatever way we could; that would fulfil me beyond measure. I've come to not expect all that much in life, Mr Bates; I've been given much more than I thought was possible in my time here, and now, with you, every expectation I've ever had has been well and truly exceeded." A slight flush of air cooled the rosy blush that had appeared on her cheeks. "I know I'm not one of those people who is to be afforded the world, but I made peace with that long ago. I don't need the world, not as long as I have you, and we have each other." She laced her hands with his once more, the sparkle that showed in her eyes telling her feelings clearer than she could ever speak them with words.

His head craned up to observe her slender silhouette set against the dusky sky; still sorrowful eyes, glossed with the faintest moisture, contrasting with her joyous ones. She braced herself for something she knew she didn't wish to hear, but all the defences she could muster were not enough to protect her heart from the blow it was to receive. "I wish so much I could give the world to you, Anna. But I can't. I can't give you anything. I am truly sorry."

Her voice came out small, but still sure. "Not even your word?"

His head bowed once again. "You wouldn't want it. They would come as more of as a curse than a blessing." The light in her look was extinguished, and he noticed it immediately. "See, I'm disappointing you already."

Her hands slipped from his and hung lifeless by her side. "I couldn't ever be disappointed in you, Mr Bates. I'm just sad that you cannot see what I see, and that you should think so little of yourself when I think everything of you. Perhaps my feelings have clouded my judgement."

It was with those words that she walked away from him that night.

* * *

The main problem she had with her room was not its size or simplicity, or the fact she had to share it, but its inability to properly adapt to the seasons and the change in their conditions. It did get considerably colder in winter, but she could cope with an added chill; it was a problem solved by the addition of an extra blanket, and her shawl if necessary. The summer, however, was another story altogether. She may as well have been laying inside a furnace; indeed, she reckoned she would have had a much easier time getting to sleep in those surroundings. Even though the sun had long since set, its unyielding heat had scorched a hole through the dusk and continued to smoulder, the blaze refusing to burn out. She could feel it envelop her where she lay, searing by the second and settling on her skin, sweltering. Becoming fire herself. It was impenetrable, and completely unbearable. The one flimsy sheet that covered her still was thrown off the bed, to be swiftly followed by her body itself.

Her grip wrestled with the latch of the window, impatient to be appeased by the least bit of air rushing in. When she did manage to prise it free, the respite was minimal. It couldn't be opened very wide anyway and she should have known from touching her fingers to the pane that the night was just as parched and arid outside as it was inside. Still, she found herself yearning to be out there, ensconced within the gardens she looked upon from above. It was very strange, that they should seem so far out of her reach when there they were, laying right before her eyes. Throughout all the years she had been there, they still remained largely unknown to her; a tantalisingly secret space, for all to see and open to everything. Quite the contradiction. Of course, she couldn't get the chance to explore by day, but now, disguised and kept safe by the cover of night, she had the perfect opportunity. It was calling to her, already invading her senses. The refreshing scent of the strong oak trees that lined the edges mingling with the sweet perfume of the rosebushes. The silk of the petals between her fingertips, the slight but satisfying prickle of grass between her bare toes. She thought of lying there until sunrise, splayed out on the grass, drifting off to the most natural sleep that there could be. Maids making their beds out of doors; Mr Carson would be quite overcome.

The sight of him standing out there, a shadow both swathed and separate from all of the others, sent her from one reverie spiralling into another. The gardens, so vast and sprawling, shrunk to the spot where he stood, all of her focus turning suddenly inwards and solely towards him. She was still unsure whether he really conceived the power he had over her, even with her confession of a few days previous. Glancing down on him, facing away from her and into the night, still, quiet and most certainly unaware of her watching, melancholy swept over Anna. Mainly for him and the lone figure he still cut, even in the moments she was at his side, but a little for herself too. God knows she had tried to be stubborn and show restraint, carry on in the same manner as she had done when she left him alone with his many thoughts in the courtyard only nights before, but she had instantly lamented those actions, and it was utterly impossible anyway. When it came to him, she would always be partly out of herself and out of control, drawn like a moth to a flame. Or was it the other way round, now she had been engulfed by the night, the heat, her blazing heart?  _Fight fire with fire._  Yet it was far from a fight, at least on her behalf. The call came louder, until ultimately it became too much to resist.

She watched him closely as she neared, steps silenced by the lush grass. Unmoving and not yet noticing her presence, he was staring up at the sky, at the clouds that had collected overhead and were rolling still slowly in from the distance. Captivated by them as she was captivated by him, it seemed as though he was finally at peace, the tension and strife that compiled him so much of the time drifting skywards. He was entranced by them, watching so intently, and she wondered what it was they possessed within them that made him this way, that held him possessed. She was just about to place a hand upon his back, so that by the touch she might somehow fall under the spell he appeared to be under, when he glanced over his shoulder and finally saw her there. Her name came out as a whisper, an exhalation.

"Why, Mr Bates," she began, "you seem to be in another world. I think I wouldn't mind joining you there at this moment."

A short chortle emerged. "Well, I wasn't quite a million miles away." As Anna settled into an instinctive position next to him, feet lined up next to his, he perused the gardens that stretched out all around them. "I think it's being out here, amongst this. It has quite an effect. It's rather a shame that we don't get to spend more time here; it's most stunning."

Her head nodded in agreement. "I suspect the Countess will organise at least a couple of garden parties soon, before the summer's out. We'll get to enjoy it a little then. Though, it's not really the same being on service. But it's better than nothing." She coughed a little needlessly before she went on. "You have to take what you can."

"You do, indeed." He shifted back towards her. "Which is why we should make the most of it while we have the chance to do so. Anna, would you care for a walk?"

"I see no reason why not." She smiled up at him; it was as if he had read her mind. "If you're alright with it, that is."

"It'll do me good. I've spent most of the day sitting; I wonder that I haven't seized up altogether. So I'm sure a walk will be the perfect remedy."

"Very well, then."

They began to stroll down one of the many paths that were strewn across, leading them further into the enchanting gardens and away from the sleeping eyes of the house. Consciously, she stepped a little more to the side as they walked, feeling that it was necessary to keep some space between them, though she couldn't be quite sure why. The time they had managed to spend together since the events of the other night had not been awkward at all, surprisingly. They had resumed conversation the very next morning, going on as they always had done, as if it had never happened. And that was it. Though they talked at length about the happenings of the house, chuckled about the distinct paranoia that had come over Thomas and Miss O'Brien, detailed what they were to be doing the day ahead, both had avoided all mention of what had been discussed in the dusk in the courtyard. It hadn't been intentional; the subject wasn't tip-toed around so much as it was stepped over altogether. Anna wasn't sure what to make of the ease at which her words had faded from being. In a way, she was thankful; if they were not to be returned, as certainly seemed to be the case, she did not need them lingering like spectres, mocking her for her stupidity and tormenting her with thoughts of what might have been. Yet she couldn't refrain from holding on to the feeling of dejection that rose within her every night, burning ardently as darkness fell. She looked down at her feet, making sure the distance remained. Any closer, and she would risk repeating the very same thing she had said when they last went walking together. The thing that had led them here now. She wasn't one for superstition but still, she wouldn't take the chance.

Small talk came again to stop the silence. "It certainly is very humid tonight. Oppressively so," he broke in. "I should wonder why the whole house isn't out here, it's surely impossible to sleep."

"Some people can sleep through anything, Mr Bates, believe me. The house could be ablaze and Gwen would still be right there, dead to the world; as long as the flames weren't touching her bed, she'd be fine. I'm not sure how she does it, especially not on nights like these." In the past, Anna had envied her roommate's absurd ability to be undisturbed, but now she was rather glad she did not share it. "I do like the warm weather, but it's all rather too much for me. Especially at night."

"I have to agree. It does take things to extremes. For a time tonight, I thought I was back in Africa rather than England." He raised his eyes to the sky once more, seeking reassurance from the source of his earlier comfort after the unexpected flashback of his past life. "Still, it looks as though a storm is on its way." Anna followed his gaze to be quite overawed by them, the clouds that had fast closed in and now loomed over their heads. "It'll be wanted, to clear the air."

Unconsciously said or not, his choice of words had resurrected the topic that she thought had gone forgotten. There was a moment of acknowledgement, and this time, he was the one who chose to change tack.

"Anna," he stumbled a little, but his speech came out sincere. "I feel it's my turn to offer apologies, and an explanation, though I don't know how good it will be. What I said to you the other night came out quite differently than how I had intended it to, and you have to know my real meaning…"

She interjected abruptly, shaking her head, sorry to cause any more agonising thoughts to flow through his head, even if she was intrigued to hear what this real meaning may be. "Oh please, Mr Bates, don't think of it. I'm sure mine were not as articulate as I wished them to be either…" She coloured to think of her rather melodramatic parting from him. "It's in the past now, no need to worry about it."

"It's no excuse. I thought I had got it all clear as I came out to see you, but then when I saw you sitting there…" he trailed off. "Clearly, I hadn't thought, and I treated you quite poorly. And I am heartily sorry." They walked a few steps further into the leafed enclosure, the air between them heavy with anticipation, before he recommenced. "What you said to me that evening, those words…they were wonderful, and I was truly honoured. You mustn't think they didn't affect me. They certainly did, perhaps a little too much." He let out a sigh as he turned towards her. "You see, they were quite a shock to the system, in many ways."

Despite herself, Anna felt her heart flutter in her chest. The impatient side of her wanted to clamour over his measured statements, enquire as to precisely why he should be so staggered, not after all the time they had spent in each other's company; the spoken intimacies they had shared for so long. She overcame the frenzy within her as she watched him, his face set seriously and brow furrowed in concentration and contemplation. It had always been difficult for him to approach matters of emotion and she appreciated his grappling with the subject, as awkward as he clearly found to vocalise what was going through his mind, so she held back and let him continue without interruption.

"You said the other night how you had learnt not to have great expectations in life. Well, nobody in the world could have lower expectations than the ones I had set for myself. I came here with the sole intention of doing honest work, being grateful every second that Lord Grantham saw fit to give me the opportunity to prove myself. No one else would even consider someone like me for a job. So that was my focus, and I was determined not to be driven from it. I didn't quite bargain on coming across you, and to find myself completely distracted from the moment I laid eyes on you." He shot a smile at her and she felt the night air get even warmer. "This, what has grown between us…well, it was the last thing that I ever could have imagined. Indeed, I still don't think I have quite fathomed it."

His eyes left hers and fell to the ground beneath them. "The matter of…" - he murmured the word so low that she had to strain to hear it – "… _love_ is something I never ever dreamed would occur. The thought of it did not register in my head; it had no need to, it was so improbable. Deep within me, I was more certain than anything else in my existence that I would not know love again."

Now, it was Anna's gaze that had dropped on hearing the connection of his words;  _he wasn't a free man. He had been loved before; been in love._  She felt his look at the side of her shoulder, and could detect a hesitant hand hovering by her waist, wanting to touch but denying the gratification, knowing the moment wasn't quite right. "But that's part of it: I've come to learn that I've never known love." Her head shot up to see the clear truth in his eyes, and she tried to rid herself of the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Anna, when you confessed your love for me, out of nowhere…I'm certainly not implying that it was nothing for you to say it, I know it was far from that. But it came so easily, so naturally." His free hand floundered in the air before taking hers. "It was the way you said those words, so sure and confident. I must confess, you quite astounded me. Anna, I had never before in my life felt loved before you told me you loved me. You don't consider the power of those three simple words until you hear them spoken truthfully for the first time."

She could feel the tears well in her eyes, with sheer joy but also with some sorrow at what he had just said. "But, Mr Bates, what about…" now she had to struggle to get the sound out, "…your wife? Had she never said…"

His gaze returned to the clouds above. "Only when she wanted something from me. No, she might have said it but she never really meant it. I had fooled myself for so long thinking she had, but I don't believe she ever loved me. And I know now that I didn't love her either." Anna felt his hand in hers, the fingers lacing and rubbing softly, before he let go, suddenly stopped their tracks and stood to fully face her. She resolved that she would have to tell him exactly what she felt for him over and again, to make up for all the years he had lacked.

"And that's also why I've been taken aback. After you told me, it was all I could think about. The words echoing in my mind, every minute of the day and night. I had known, somewhere within me, the extent of my feelings for you long ago. It just took hearing those words out loud for me to realise them." They found their eyes lingering, looking at the same place on each other's bodies, and he grasped both of her hands in his. Both raised their heads, unable to escape one another's eyes.

"Truthfully, I'm still coming to terms with it. As I say, these sentiments, they're quite foreign to me. Anna…you must know that I do reciprocate. But when it comes to saying it…I don't feel that it's right, somehow." His fingers fumbled with hers, aiming to reassure. "At least not until I can offer you something real. Something you deserve. You can't begin to know the guilt I would feel in promising something I could not see through; not to you." Anna thought that perhaps she knew it only too well. "I won't put you through the hardship of living with false hope, not when it can be avoided."

She moved her fingers swiftly across his to take over the role of comforting. "My hope is entirely true, and it always will be where it concerns you. I really don't ask for a lot. All I ask for is you, however you may be." One of her hands went up to cradle his cheek and he looked down at her with so much open affection she felt she would burst.

Instead, it was the clouds that decided to split open at that precise moment in time. Drops of warm water tumbled from the sky onto them, increasing in size and frequency by the second.

Breaking their gaze, he sighed up at the sky. "I had hoped it would hold off a little longer."

"Oh dear," Anna couldn't stop herself from giggling as they began to get quite drenched, curbing her laughter when she saw the forlorn look upon his face, his eyes travelling back the far distance towards the house – being lost in their conversation, she hadn't realised quite how entrenched they'd become in the gardens. "Hang on…I'm sure there's somewhere not far from here…"

As the downpour sustained, Anna paced towards the small stone outbuilding she had remembered the whole of the servants' quarter trekking out to some years ago, not long after she had started, in search of a young Lady Sybil who had took a game of hide and seek a little too far. She tried to slow herself down, cautious that he wasn't able to follow at the same speed, but a combination of the ceaseless rain and giddiness caused by this evening's encounter had added a definite skip to her step. Luckily it really wasn't that far to go from where they had stood and they were soon sheltered from the storm, if not completely dry.

"Oh, Mr Bates, I am so sorry," she breathed out as he shut the door behind them.

"Don't be, Anna. It was my suggestion to go wandering out of doors on the verge of torrential rain, and so I am entirely at fault." He swept his forearm over his face as he walked to the other side of the small space, wiping the droplets from his hair and leaning his back against the stone wall, taking some of the weight off his knee. "Though, I am glad we got the chance to do so."

She smiled demurely as she replied. "I am too." Anna swivelled to stare out of the window that partially lit up the otherwise grey room, her eyes drawn to the drops that danced down the glass. She found herself hypnotised by the movement, as well as the relentless, rhythmic sound of the rain that surrounded them. "I do like the rain," she said, the thought spontaneously spilling from her lips.

"You wouldn't be so keen on it if it caused you to catch your death." She heard his voice echo from across the building. As an afterthought, she swiped the beads of moisture that had settled on her arms and then scrunched fistfuls of her nightgown in her hands. Not averting her gaze from the scene outside, she went on with her musing.

"I don't know what it is, but I've just always been fascinated by it. Listening to it, watching it fall…I could spend hours doing so. The fact that all of a sudden, without warning, all this just streams from the sky, unstoppable…it's amazing, really. It makes me feel so relaxed but completely invigorated with energy, all at once. It sounds silly, I know…" An abrupt laugh came from her. "I remember when I was a little girl, there was a night just like this, a storm that went on for hours. My sister hated the rain, cried and complained that she couldn't get to sleep because of the noise, and I lay there, listening to it against the window…all I could think about it how I wanted to run outside right then, twirl around, sit out and let it all wash over me. I couldn't stop thinking how funny it would be – my poor mother would have gone spare if I'd ever made it outside – and sent myself into hysterics. My sister was not pleased."

There was a prolonged silence after she'd finished reminiscing, and she turned back to the room to see what the matter was. The first thing – the only thing – she noticed was the way he was looking at her, gaze smouldering but softened, and never leaving her. There was something different in his eyes, something different about him completely as he took in the sight of her, illuminated by the moonlight and the flash of lightning that had started to strike outside. In any other situation, she would have felt awfully self-conscious, but as it was she was utterly at ease. A smirk teased on her face. "Mr Bates, whatever is it?"

"It's just…you, Anna." Her breath stuttered as he left the wall and began to walk towards where she was standing. "Your unending enthusiasm – the way you're so excited and inspired by something most other people would be annoyed by." He let out a warm laugh. "Your general love of life, your positivity. Your bravery and strength. Your determination." He was unbelievably close to her now; she could feel his breath on her face. Despite the humidity, goosepimples started to spring on her skin. "Your grace. Your beauty. You're just…effortless."

She didn't know where to look for a second, quite overwhelmed. Then her eyes met his once more; they were still burning into her. She was very much the flame right now, and he was drawn in, playing with the fire. The rain beat on outside but the sound was silent to her ears; all she could hear, all she could think about was their breathing. His lips were just inches from hers, and her gaze flickered to them instinctively, before returning to its previous destination.

"Mr Bates, you don't need to say it. You don't. Because I can feel it." As if to prove what she said, she laid her hand delicately on his chest, and was slightly stunned by the fierce beating of his heart.

"I must. Anna Smith…I love you."

The wait was almost painful; their shadows meeting in the darkness and kissing before they did. When it finally came into being, it was all she had expected and everything else besides. Slow, soft, deliciously sweet. Her lips lingered a little longer just above his mouth as his hands slid to her waist. She rested her head against his chest as if it was the most natural action in the world, as if she'd done it a thousand times before, and felt the safety of his arms wrapped around her. They didn't speak; no more words were needed that night. This hidden place had allowed the secret to emerge between the only two that ever needed to hear it, and as the storm went on, they let themselves be set adrift within it – just until it ceased, safe in the knowledge of all that it had brought out.


	4. Chapter 4

Anna hurried soundlessly past the rooms, down the never-ending stairs, anxious to make her way to the other side of the house as rapidly as was possible without causing a commotion. To any visitor or startled new member of staff, Downton would surely resemble a maze with all its corridors and corners, places that had never seemed to be there before appearing out of thin air to surprise, intrigue, perplex. She knew it well enough now to navigate the routes in her sleep, and part of her wondered how she wasn't doing precisely that at this moment in time.

By all accounts, it had been a rather unusual night. Despite the force that was trying with all its might to shatter the remnants of safety and security across the entirety of the world, not just Downton, old practises were, for now, still firmly in place and household divisions silently dictated, as reliably as always. The three of them sat at the table – Anna and Mr Bates on one side, looking almost perfectly symmetrical as they listened intently, draining their cups of tea; Tom Branson at the other, poring over the newspapers that Lord Grantham had discarded a few hours ago, finding something in every sentence he read out to rail against, voicing his outrage at the flawed political strategies and absolute pointlessness of this war.

"None of them have got the faintest clue, haven't done from the start. More than a year on and they're still all quite content to go round and round in circles, mapping out one ridiculous plan after the next, knowing bloody well it won't work. But what should it matter when they've got endless supplies of ammunition to throw about mindlessly, and men to bear the brunt for them; men they'll never know the names of, men they'll never have to look in the eye. They're not aware, and they couldn't care less, so long as there's someone lower to do all the dirty work. And that's always been the problem."

They nodded reverently as he went on with his speech, stealing sideways glances at each other, Anna trying to stifle a smirk as she saw Mr Bates' gaze lift momentarily upwards, more aware of the harsh realities of war than Mr Branson ever could be but mindful enough to keep his thoughts to himself, not risking igniting a larger argument. She considered Mr Branson in the position he seemed to simultaneously have so much scorn and ambition for, ambushing the hierarchy and leading things in quite a different direction. It could be just what was needed, she reasoned. Or, more likely, all hell would break loose. Though appreciating his point wholeheartedly, Anna couldn't completely share it. Of course, there were instances in which she may have pondered her place and questioned whether things were entirely fair, but she also believed that everyone from every rank, status and background had their parts to play and when you looked at the picture with an observant eye, you saw that people weren't so different deep down as they appeared on the surface; human hopes and fears, joys and sorrows were all evenly distributed amongst the classes, now more than ever. Some just had a finer execution of masquerading their emotions, and that wasn't always an advantage. In all her time there, she had never had any reason to complain about the balance of power. In fact, sometimes she wondered if it hadn't actually tipped in her favour. The only thing she could think to grumble about at that minute was Mr Branson's remaining presence in the servants' hall; as much as she liked him, she would have much rather it had been just them, free to talk as they wished. As Tom's hand slammed down on the table following a quote from a government official that had got him especially het up, Anna slid one of her own underneath it, across to rest on Mr Bates' thigh. She moved it ever so slightly up and down as her head bobbed along with the cadence of the impassioned speech. His head twitched towards her, and she felt her eyes smile as they shared in their little moment of hidden intimacy, the other person in the room utterly oblivious.

After tiring himself out, Mr Branson rose, announcing his plans to call it a night.  _Finally_ , Anna thought. Perhaps she was being a little greedy, but their time alone was precious and she felt like she had waited for it a year in one day. She had already edged her body a couple of inches closer to his where they sat before Branson had made it all the way out of the door, then they both heard the chauffeur's voice call out.

"M'lady?"

They both scrambled to their feet as Lady Mary appeared in the doorway, unannounced except for Mr Branson's brief exclamation, which had sounded uncharacteristically timid, he clearly as taken aback as they were to see one of the ladies of the house here in the servants quarters', even though it was after the hours of duty. Anna tried to remember when she had last seen Lady Mary in these surroundings, if indeed she ever had done before. Had she observed their closeness in the millisecond before she entered?

"There's no need for that," Lady Mary pleaded, looking towards Mr Bates and motioning for him to sit back down. Anna thought she saw her hand trembling before she pulled it back down and clasped it with her other.

"An awful draught seems to have come into my room and I am positively freezing. Anna, I was wondering whether you could possibly fish out some blankets to put a stop to it?" Lady Mary looked at her with exceptionally wide eyes, and Anna felt a shiver come over her where she stood.

"Of course, m'lady."

Anna followed Lady Mary out of the doorway, gazing over her shoulder to see him giving her a look that told of annoyance on her behalf, as well as his own, at Lady Mary's request, but also showed soft-hearted approval of her unfailing willingness to be of assistance, even when she was within her rights to refuse.

When they had walked the way across half the house to Lady Mary's room, and no sooner than Anna had shut the door behind them, Lady Mary had broken into heavy sobs. Anna's first instinct was to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, the same gesture she would perform if any other person she cared about was in distress, but she refrained, still aware of the boundaries even in private. Instead she sat down on the bed beside her, keeping a little distance.

"Oh Anna, I'm terribly sorry. I just didn't know what else to do. My mind is quite muddled." She watched solemnly as tears streamed down Lady Mary's cheeks. "All I can think of is Papa reading the newspaper, talking of the latest attacks…even though I'm sure they can't be anywhere near, we've had no word for weeks. Of course, it's just me being silly and not realising that writing a note home is not of the utmost importance with everything that's going on. But I just can't escape the feeling that something has happened to him…"

At that point, she wept with more abandon and Anna splayed her hand in the space between them on the bed, still not making contact but letting her empathy known. She did feel, perhaps strangely, privileged: in her whole life, Lady Mary had permitted very few people to see her cry, clinging on to her pride until the very last. It was an unspoken bond, and one which Anna, even though she was certain it would never be openly proven, took as evidence of their friendship.

Yes, what had occurred tonight had definitely been unusual, but it had to be wondered whether anything could really be considered usual or ordinary anymore, in the face of all that had been happening and all which was still to happen, as it seemed very unlikely to conclude soon. The inevitable winds of change were sweeping into the grounds of Downton and slowly but surely, the whole composition of everything, inside and out, was irrevocably shifting, never to return to how had it been just months previous. Their own situation had transformed too, not in any way that could be perceived by the world - some matters it appeared would always hold firm, whatever breakthroughs came to society – but certainly in ways that could be felt by Anna. After he had confessed his love to her, somewhat impulsively, things had progressed very slowly; indeed, at times Anna had to wonder whether they were getting anywhere at all. But she succeeded most of the time in not giving over to frustration, being more aware than anyone of the need to keep a hold on composure and observe propriety, also keeping in mind his admission that he was grappling with his emerging, as before unknown, feelings. In the odd moment when other eyes were vacated, he would briefly touch the small of her back or grasp her hand in his and whisper:  _"I will get there. I promise you."_  She would simply gaze into his eyes and silently nod her acceptance, while asking herself how long it would really take.

Almost a year passed to that fateful garden party, and the moment when, as Lord Grantham announced to them all the declaration of war upon the country, the world had stopped spinning on its axis as the confusion, dread and uncertainty sunk in. Anna recalled with alertness in every fibre of her body the many sensations that had passed through her on hearing the news. She was frightened about how it would affect Downton and everyone there, of course, but what had really sent her heart plummeting to the ground was the thought of what a new war would do to him. Certainly he wouldn't be able to fight, not with his injury, but surely it would bring it all rushing back; the unwanted memories he had fought to banish from his head, the horrific visions glimpsed that she could not even begin to imagine, the physical and mental agony relived, the vivid nightmares that would send him writhing and screaming out. She remembered what his mother had said when she had gone to see her in London to prove his innocence: that the war had shaken him up, had made him a different man. There was no doubt it would happen again. She was terrified.

And this war had shaken him up, but as it turned out, and to her great relief, did so in the best way possible. It was as if, from that very evening, something had snapped within him; the realisation of war on the horizon bringing forth a stark realisation, making him spring into action and seize life, even with its restrictions. He told her how he felt about her, in more detail and more than just once, and they had settled into a blissful state, a world of their own that was a million miles away from the chaos that was unfolding around them and everyone else. Even though they still made sure they kept themselves to themselves, and only let out their shows of affections to the dark, Anna was certain that the other staff must have picked up on the looks and smiles that passed between them almost unaware – God knows some people did not miss the slightest movement within those four walls – but she didn't care, just as she had chosen not to care about the troubles that lie in wait for them. If what was happening was teaching her anything, it was that life was unfortunately short and fragile, and that everything it afforded you was to be cherished, no matter in which form it was given. As the war had progressed, and while many things fell apart, what they had was coming together, stronger than ever.

Anna picked up her pace as she got downstairs, catching sight of the clock as she rushed down the hallway. She had spent an hour and a half with Lady Mary, listening to her shaky words, offering quiet consolation and talking with her to distract her from her fearful thoughts, subjects stretching from the abstract to the absurd, until she was quieted. Passing the door to the sleeping quarters, she considered going to change, feeling particularly uncomfortable in her corset and chilly from the bite of the winter night, but dismissed the thought as abruptly as it had occurred; even though she was quite adept at hasty costume changes, she was conscious of not wasting another second to get to the hall. It was late now, and it had been a long day for them both; she really couldn't have expected him to stay there, sitting patiently while she was kept elsewhere. But still, it wouldn't take her long just to check.

Her heart somehow managed to steady itself and speed up as she took the sight of him in, standing not far from the doorway, as if he had been anticipating her arrival at that precise moment.

"I thought you'd be in bed by now. I could have been up there all night, for all you knew."

"Surprisingly, I'm not that tired." She moved towards him and stretched out her arms to step into his embrace. "Besides, I don't think we've managed to have much time together today. I'd have waited all night just for this minute."

Anna grinned against his chest, soothed by the soft rise and fall of his breathing. She would have done exactly the same thing if it was the other way around. They stood there for a little while, stopping silent, him gently tucking stray strands of her hair that had fallen loose from her bun behind her ear and letting his fingertips linger lightly on her earlobe. Anna shivered slightly, not from the cold.

"Would you like another cup of tea?"

"That'd be lovely."

They both padded across to the kitchen in the glow of candlelight. Aside from their pottering and preparing, everything was incredibly quiet; quieter than she had ever known it to be here. The house, so vast and maze-like elsewhere, seemed to disappear at times like this, when they were alone. It was as if, right then, it was meant perfectly just for them. The thought made Anna smile, and she suddenly pictured the two of them in another place; their own kitchen in their own house, small but ever so homely, her making tea and laughing as he slipped his arms around her waist at the sink, catching her lips in a kiss as she turned around…it couldn't happen, of course. But somehow she didn't feel as sad as she might have done at the dismissal of this dream; at least they had this, she told herself. It wasn't perfect, but it was as close as it would get, and she couldn't sorrow over it. She felt his hand sweep across the back of her waist as he took one of the cups from her side, and headed back to the hall.

"How is Lady Mary?" he started as she followed into the room, placing her cup on the table in the space next to where he was now sitting, the same spot where he had been hours before. "Is she now happily encased in every spare blanket in the house?"

"That wasn't quite the problem," Anna took her seat next to him, taking a sip of tea as she settled. "She's been trying to put a brave face on as usual, but she's so very worried about Captain Crawley. They weren't on the best of terms when he left, and I know she regrets it terribly. She's got the idea into her head that if, God forbid, something does happen to him then it will be her fault, some kind of consequence of fate that will punish her forever. I told her that it was completely impossible, and that all she could do was keep faith, but she was so frantic that I don't think it really registered."

He placed a tender hand above her knee. "I'm certain whatever you said was able to comfort her greatly."

She smiled, and let out a small sigh. "I do hope so. I hate to think of her so distressed, especially when it can't be helped. Lady Grantham is still trying to make matches for her, and her heart really isn't in it. I wouldn't like it at all, having all that mapped out for me. I can't see how you could do things that way, and truly be happy. But I suppose it can work." She twisted her cup around on its saucer as she spoke. "Despite all that has happened, Lady Mary is incredibly fond of Captain Crawley, so I think her choice has already been made, at least in her heart. Even if they are perhaps a little exaggerated in places, all of her worries are perfectly founded." Her hands clasped as if in prayer, then slid underneath the table to her lap and covered his where it lay. "I know I'd not get a moment's peace if it were you out there." Unbidden tears had formed in her eyes as she conceived the mere thought and she felt his fingers lace with hers, instantly reassuring, letting her know he wasn't going anywhere. She felt slightly selfish for the sense of solace that washed over her.

"Well, it's a good thing for us both."

Since the outbreak of the war, the subject had crept up a number of times in their night-time conversations; it was something that couldn't be hidden from. Anna had been wary of delving too deep, not wanting to intrude and trudge up painful parts of his past, but he had opened up much more in the past few months and allowed fragments to emerge. There were certain areas that remained sacred, and she made sure that she tread carefully on those that he decided he could revisit. Obviously, the act of war was dreadful, but as well as dividing it also brought together. Unbreakable bonds were created between men, brought those whose worlds would never usually collide to stand side by side, share life, witness death. It gave purpose, as well as burden. Did he miss it at all? Did some part of him feel the need to return, feel like he'd lost something: a drive, a determination, a facet of his very being? He said that he missed it most before it ended; he knew it sounded strange, and remembered thinking how distorted his outlook seemed at the time, as the land and so many men were wrecked and ravaged, bathed in dirt and smoke and blood. Every one of his comrades longed for home, talked of nothing but the joyous moment when they would be reunited with their wives and families, but he couldn't share in that, the thought filling him with dread and making him feel disturbingly hollow. Lying in the makeshift hospital bed, days later, everything had become lost to him.  _Diminished. Useless. Pointless._  The words swam in his head and kept him weighed down, defining his existence. Why had he been spared when it was clear he could not achieve anything; was his 'reward' for saving the life of his superior to feel eternally empty? He had ruminated, had time to do nothing but, and kept returning to the one wish that burned in his head; that he could go back, offer an exchange, give his second chance to a man who could make proper use of it. It had taken years for him to be grateful for it, to realise the extent of the gift he'd been given. He still needed to do more to prove himself worthy, but he was beginning to know that he was. The feelings he held towards his time at war were curious. It had undeniably taken things from him, but in many respects he had gained much more; perspectives and chances that he never would have encountered if he had not been forced to endure his various trials. His experiences had taught him that blessings came in the most remarkable guises.

She became aware of the chill in the room suddenly, a candle snuffing itself out of its own accord, and her shoulders trembled.

"You're cold." He slowly released his hand from hers, extended his arm and shifted his chair, circling her closer. Anna revelled in the immediate warmth, laying her head softly under his shoulder. As his fingers drifted slowly along her arm, her eyes fluttered shut and she was surrounded completely by him, his heart beating against her ear, lulling her into a perfect peace.

She thought she might have gone into another world, or at least fallen asleep, until she heard his voice break through, low and silky. "What are you thinking of?"

Her words floated from her, as if they were coming out of a dream. "Blue skies…the sun…the months to come." She hummed against his chest.  _The months to come._ She shouldn't consider them too much, but she found, at times, she couldn't help but wonder what they would hold.

Nobody dared to look far ahead into the future now; it was best to think of it in terms of the coming hour, the following day. Every second, so many were having their futures stolen from them, were being left stranded in the past without a trace. The injustice of it had made her truly realise how blessed she was; to have something to hold onto, to have what they had now. Some time ago, she had fostered visions of their future, imagined in different situations but at its heart always the same each time, but now she had let them fade. Not because she didn't see it still, but because what was to come didn't seem to trouble her as much as it once did. They could be together, they were more than content – what more was needed?

His voice started again, and she felt it vibrate through her head and her thoughts. "I've decided. I'm going to write to my solicitor and, all being well, get plans for a divorce in motion. I see no reason to drag it out any longer; it's gone on long enough. I should have done it years ago, but it had never really mattered until now."

She lifted her eyes to meet his, slightly dazed, and unsure of whether the words had just been in her head or whether he had really uttered them.

"A divorce? Is it possible? Would Lord Grantham allow it?" So many questions whirled around.

"There are certainly grounds, in many areas…it's a case of gathering the evidence, which may take a little while but I'm confident it can be done, especially if we proceed as soon as possible. Also, there's the question of getting Vera to agree. She's taken almost everything I have of material value, so I can't see what else she could possibly want. But whatever it is, I'll negotiate, so long as it's settled. Lord Grantham is already aware of my wishes and intentions - I dare say he has been for years – and has given his consent. I won't say the way is entirely clear, but it's as much as it ever will be."

Anna blinked, feeling excitement that was still premature and predominant disbelief. "Will I have to do anything, make any statements…? I'm sorry, I'm unaware of the processes."

He smiled, brushing the back of his hand gently across her cheek before letting it rest on her shoulder. "I wouldn't expect you to be. You needn't do anything, I shall take care of it all." She knew he could see the haze of confusion in her eyes. "Unless of course, you don't wish for it…?"

"Oh, I do; of course I do," she rushed, pushing a hand forth to meet with his own that was free. "I just…I'd hoped, but I never expected it to be a possibility, if I'm really honest."

"I understand." He swept his hand back and forth along her arm, and circled his other tight with hers. "I had hoped to God that I would never in my life have to see Vera again, but I will find her, for you, for us. For our future."

 _Their future._ He believed in it, was going to fight to make it happen. She couldn't help herself breaking into a glowing grin as she rested her head back down upon his shoulder and closed her eyes once more. In this instant, their present was wonderful, and she could only imagine at the things that were to come. The blue skies flowing through her mind were so bright they almost blinded her. Summer in the middle of winter. Harmony in the midst of discord. She believed in it too, more than anything she had ever put her faith in.


	5. Chapter 5

She stood in the familiar spot, on the edges of the courtyard, the ground damp and thrillingly cold beneath her bare feet. After an especially restless half hour that had rendered her catatonic and unable to return to bed, the night had called her out into its embrace, away from the quiet chaos that had grew and pervaded the entirety of the room. At this very moment, it possessed an indeterminable quality, a rare kind of peace; rarer now to her than it had ever been before. She inhaled deeply, filling herself up, not wanting it to elude her. The smell of the air after rain. Simple, unmistakable but quite ethereal, too. There as an invisible sign that something had changed; the earth renewed and restored after being ravaged. It was there, it was now within her, but it didn't have the same effect. Far from being cleansed, her mind still whirred, and weighed heavier upon her in the outside idyll.

Trying to concentrate her efforts, she felt an incredible guilt for wishing to get away from her thoughts, to be seeking another form of solitude. She didn't want to be alone.  _She was going to be alone, for the rest of her life._ She was never alone, not when he was there, in every one of her thoughts, her imaginings; in the words and vows she said to herself in the dead of these hours, in all of the spaces inbetween. She wouldn't have it any other way, couldn't ever break the bond. He was a part of her, was long before he had placed the band on her finger and pledged his troth. If he was to spend all of eternity incarcerated, if she was never to see his face again, he would always be there, at home in her heart. She would never be alone.

Yet, especially as she found herself standing out here, there remained an absence so strong that she was unable to shake away. The feeling was one she would never become accustomed to; the lack of him being there, in body as well as soul. It turned every night into the first, mere hours after they had become husband and wife, had been secretly united to then be unceremoniously divided. The night when she became only half the person she was always meant to be. Lacking, so thoroughly and completely. Her gaze travelled down the space of the yard to another spot, one where they had both stood in the serenity and the turmoil of so many nights, finding comfort with one another in sweet embraces. Just by looking over there she could feel them now; his arms sure and strong around her, pulling her closer into him, hands gently sweeping down her back. She felt everything: the comfort, the headiness that his touch would send spiralling through her, the security. His love. Him. The idea of not being held in his arms ever again, of not having him standing right in front of her, sent shivers over her and a sharp pain searing into her heart. Not hearing him say her name; indeed, say anything. Not tasting his kiss. The traces still lingered on her lips, but they were fading by the second; she would soon forget.

She shut her eyes tight; she was still there.  _Petrichor_. Senses revived and wide awake. At her back, on the edge, she knew he was there too. She could detect the outline of him, his shade against the black of the night. He sighed, sent himself out into the air to mix with the wonder, everything the sky and the earth had combined to create at that moment. His hands, placed delicately on either side of her waist before they met around her, keeping her safe, circled. She felt his lips near her ear, words held in expectation before they were released softly, his secret to her.  _I'm here, Anna. No need to worry. I'll always be right here, with you._ Her eyes flew open, still feeling his body flush against her own. For the smallest space in time, it had been true. But it wasn't now. She was there, alone. She was always going to be alone.

She took in another breath, the biggest she was sure she had ever taken in her life. It had to be done; she was breathing in the air for both of them. She wondered what he was doing now. Lying on his back, staring at the dank ceiling, wanting to tear it off so he could see the night sky. Perhaps he was sound asleep. He needed the rest, the escape, so much. She prayed he was. Whether in slumber or awake, was he thinking of her just the same as she was thinking of him? Part of her was certain of the answer, but another place in her mind faltered. He had been well acquainted with seclusion in his life; by all means he would be coping with this isolation far better than she was. She exhaled with a heavy sigh. If she was going back to the start once more, she needed to take things one day, one night, at a time. If she really was going to be alone for the rest of time, it had to be done this way. She would make it through, she told herself; she'd done it before. On her own, but never quite.

* * *

The dark had seemed to close in quickly that night, although Anna couldn't be sure whether it was all that noticeable. Indeed, she was oblivious to almost everything that surrounded her at present. Either ten minutes had passed, or two hours had. She had little inclination to discover which. Instead, she lay there; still, silent. She hadn't moved an inch from the position she was in since she'd climbed under the covers either hours or minutes ago, hands tucked under the pillow, legs curled tight beneath her. Her body was barely in the bed, resting precariously on the edge, as if she was ready to start up – or tumble out – at any minute. It didn't occur to her how uncomfortable the arrangement was. She stayed there, staring straight ahead at the wall or at nothing in particular. Thinking of nothing, and everything.

Without warning, the sensation suddenly started up again. Creeping over her where she lay, seeping through at first and then coming in floods. She could feel it rise from her toes, across her limbs, burrowing its way right into the pit of her stomach. It continued to climb, increasing in intensity. Now it was engulfing her throat, wrapping itself firm, and agitation began to wash over her too. She had to go before it reached any further, though she knew she wouldn't be able to stop it. But the urge possessed her; she couldn't be here. She must get out. Her feet seemed to fly over the staircase and down the hallways, carrying her along beyond her own abilities as she was held fast in the midst of a trance. As she passed through the hall cloaked in darkness, she felt the rawness scratch at her throat and her vision becoming increasingly blurred. It wasn't too far to the door. There was at least an ounce of control, some small store of strength left within her. She blinked fiercely, fighting back the tears that were forming as she grasped the handle, determined to win part of the battle before she stepped out into the courtyard. Once outside, she surrendered.

Standing in the same spot as she had the night before, when he had told her that he was to leave first thing in the morning, that he had had no right to involve her in his life, that she should forget about him as if it could ever be that simple, she broke down again. Would this be her new ritual, she wondered. Replacing their conversations and confidential intimacies with her fits of tears every night, for God only knows how long; perhaps forever. Tonight she cried with even more fervour, every bit of emotion pouring out of her unleashed, unable to cease. She didn't think she had anything left in her to release, wondered where she could possibly have been holding back so many tears. It was only now, in the first full day she had spent without him, that it had sunk in; the force of what had happened really hitting her. He was gone from Downton, gone from her life and would never return to build the life that they had both planned. He had gone away, to London for now but surely somewhere else eventually; perhaps even Ireland, to the very place she knew not in reality but from her dreams, where they had been happy, together. Except, in this new reality that was hard on them both, he would walk and sit there with the wife she knew he despised, giving his vows another chance in misery. And misery was what would trap her too, making her present unbearable, her future redundant and colouring her past with its plaguing shadows. She felt as if she had been punched in her stomach, already sore and overwrought from the effort of sobbing so heavily.

The tears that were now flowing freely from her were also likely the result of the restraint she had imposed upon herself throughout the day. She had made a promise to herself not to cry during her hours of her work, or indeed in front of anyone in the house. Aside from a brief burst sparked off after finding Ethel weeping in their room, which she had tried to convince herself was at least partly out of empathy for the other housemaid, she had been successful, even though the tears had been behind her eyes all day long threatening to emerge abruptly. Though most would look upon her with sympathetic gazes, she knew only too well what others would think. Self-pity, pure and simple, and all over something that was her own fault, something she should have known better about, especially at her age and in her position. She wouldn't have been able to respond the way she wanted given the state she was in, and so she was glad she had stayed true to her promise and didn't grant the satisfaction. Needless to say, she knew that this response had not been provoked by knocked pride or a hurt reputation; she did not care much for either of those things anyway. Simple self-pity was not responsible for the unquenchable ache that had consumed the whole of her from the moment he had walked away, the pain that pounded against her head relentlessly, the sorrow that burned at the base of her throat every minute of every hour since; the gaping hole in her heart that would always remain, could never be closed over. She felt it contract suddenly in her chest and she clutched both hands to her stomach, wailing without caring if she was heard. She was well past that now. Somehow the night, ever her companion and confidante, silenced her.

It was absolutely impossible for her to comprehend how she was standing here now, sobbing her heart out, when only nights ago she had been overjoyed beyond all measure, experiencing elation she never imagined would be possible for her. She had felt herself swell with happiness as he had proposed to her, albeit in an unconventional manner, as they had sat in the soft glow of the hall after hours and talked about their future, a future that was no longer a wild illusion but was within reach. As he spoke of the cottage on the edge of Downton where they would live as newlyweds, their little hotel, the children that would run and play at their feet, she knew she was shining brighter than the candles that were sitting on the side, her eyes welling with tears of pure joy. How swiftly they could change; how unbelievably cruel fate was. She racked her brain for what it could have been, the deed that was so unforgiveable that it had caused her to be damned so ruthlessly, that ensured that her delight be replaced with such overwhelming despair. In all likelihood, it was because she had dared to dream; not just to dream, but to do so so ardently that she actually believed that they would be fulfilled. She knew she should have cast a more watchful eye over them, shouldn't have let herself get so carried away, but those promises had been much harder to keep. In the past months her hopes had thrived and flourished, had took on a life of their own and so eagerly occupied hers that she was surely to blame for tempting fate with her acceptance of them. To think how they had all scoffed, herself included, at Ethel when she had talked boldly of her desires and lofty ambitions to make a better life for herself. Out of the two of them, whose dreams were really more unrealistic? Deep down, Anna confessed to herself that she had always known the answer but even now, when she was in no doubt, she couldn't bring herself to admit the truth. She really should have known better. It was not her place to hope, to wish, to dream, and she couldn't complain when those dreams were justly shattered. Yet as the splinters lay scattered at her feet, she couldn't ever be sorry for creating them in the first place, whether she was deserving or not. She wouldn't have changed them for the world nor traded them for the dreams she had held before she had ever known him; it had been so long that she couldn't even recall what they had been. Any way, they weren't comparable and would certainly be of no comfort. No dream, new or revisited, could ever be an accurate substitute for the ones that had been snatched swiftly from her grasp, vanished to nothing.

 _Nothing_. The word reverberated painfully through her head and her heart. How could he have ever regarded himself in that way, after all that she had ever said, after all the nights she had let him know, in gestures, glances full of meaning that could not possibly be misunderstood, small stolen kisses that spoke a thousand words and more, exactly how wonderful she knew he was and how much he meant to her. She felt a rush of anger surge; did her judgements still count for so little with him, her words and actions doing nothing at all to quell every harsh and untrue counterpart he had to contend with in his life? Did he still, despite all that he had swore, hold  _her_ word in a higher regard, let  _her_  hold such undefeatable power over him? Was he really so weak to allow every wrongly sworn sacrifice to return so powerfully upon the sight of her sitting there, and to let them rule without question? Did he consider that she was so weak as not to fight back, defend everything they had strived so hard so far to build? She wanted to hold herself now as she had done then, confronted face to face with his past, her parallel. She wasn't quite sure how she had kept herself so strong as she stood there, the picture of quiet composure while a confusion of feeling had raged inside of her. Seeing her with her own eyes, unable to deny it to herself and anyone else any longer.  _His wife._  Anna felt the length of her body burn with the memory, remembering the way she had looked her up and down with a dark, delving gaze. Still hearing how she sneered out her name, as though she really did consider her a rival. She couldn't refute the fact that she hated it, hated her instantly, but even as  _she_  remained there as a stranger and a figure all too familiar, all of the hate she held was overpowered and diminished by love, the love that filled her from head to toe when she looked over to where he stood between them and that would remain when he was no longer there. That was what had given her the strength to stand her ground, the determination to return her unyielding glare match for match, the will to win. She could spout all the lies and the truth in the world that she wished, could say and do anything against her; whatever it was, she could handle it.

The fury subsided and sorrow took its predominant place again as she considered why it really was that he had uttered the word. As always, it had been to shield her; an attempt to lessen her anguish by trying to persuade her that he was not worth grieving over, not worth rejoicing over, not worth anything. But the statement had been said too late: the damage had been done.  _She_ had done the worst damage that she could ever do: to take him away. Even as he turned his back to her, leaving her with nothing to hope for looking forward, she held on to what was behind her now. He should have become nothing to her at that very moment, but he was still everything, and would forever be. As the cries continued to come from her throat, she found that she was temporarily unable to breath, the force of her agony overtaking every part of her being. She stuttered as the oxygen was snatched from her, and her hand scratched sharply against the brick wall as she grasped onto it to settle herself and regain the natural impulse. For the briefest moment she questioned whether it was worth fighting for the privilege, given the way in which her life would now unfold.

Her turbulent train of thought had not been helped by her lack of rest. In the past twenty four hours she'd had just snatches of sleep, and they had only come due to sheer emotional exhaustion; her body had had to be the one to give in, seeing as her mind steadfastly refused to do so. It had convinced her that the sane thing to do the previous night was to spend the best part of it sitting in the hall, in the same place as she had sat countless other nights in the passing years, waiting patiently for him. He would come, it told her; sooner or later, he would come and sit beside her, as he had done for those countless nights. He couldn't bring their nights together to such an abrupt conclusion; end all they had like that, leaving them both wretched and torn apart. There would be some kind of consolation, if she just waited a little longer. She was not sure how she would react when he would tentatively step through the doorway, whether she would rediscover her measured poise and wait for him to tell her he'd changed his mind or if she would otherwise rush across the room, cling to his frame and resolve to never let go. She'd tear herself away just long enough to run back to her room and pack the few possessions she owned; they wouldn't have to wait for the sunrise, they could depart right now, take off into the darkness never to be seen again. Ruin did not matter to her, not one bit. She sat, hands clasped together in front of her on the table, all manner of notions forming in her head. Waiting, waiting. The fragile first light of the dawn had started to strain through before the sound of another's steps registered, soon to be followed by a sharp intake of breath.

"Oh my goodness, Anna!"

Mrs Hughes stopped just in front of the doorway, her hands having flown up to her chest. Anna realised that given her appearance, ashen with the slightest tinge of colour being the redness that still ringed her irises and brushed the tip of her nose, she must have provided poor Mrs Hughes with the fright of her life as she sat there before her, a spectre. The housekeeper recovered herself quickly, and went closer to the table.

"You're as white as a sheet," she said as she took the seat closest to Anna, the seat that had already become haunted. "Don't tell me you've been here all night."

Anna hesitated for a moment, believing that she had forgotten how to speak entirely, before she found a croaky voice. "Not long, just about fifteen minutes or so."

The frown on Mrs Hughes's face deepened. "You know better than to believe I'd be so easily taken in. My girl, you'll make yourself ill carrying on like this, and that's the last thing we need." Her expression softened as she finished, letting Anna know that the statement though sounding flippant actually contained a great deal of concern. She knew herself that she had to pull together, plough into her duties just as thoroughly as she ever did. But at the same time, she didn't see that it mattered whether she slept for minutes or days; it would be no prevention for the illness that had already subjugated her, and it would be no cure either. She heard Mrs Hughes sigh beside her before she began again.

"I won't ask you if you're alright, as you're plainly not, and nothing I could offer you will make everything appear miraculously better. Though we're all rather taken aback, I'm assured that nobody is feeling Mr Bates's decision to leave us so suddenly more keenly than you are." Anna felt the housekeeper's hand rest upon her forearm, a source of reliable comfort. "At this moment it's the hardest thing in the world, and it's not likely to get easier for a little while, but you know that whatever decision that led to this was taken with you in the utmost consideration. Or at least, you will come to see that, eventually. The hardest acts for anyone to take involve sacrifice not for their own sake, but for the sake of someone else. It doesn't mean that they love you any less; in fact it means that they love you more than they could ever let you know."

She was partly too tired to argue, but also partly afraid of resurrecting sentiments raked up in the not too distant past that had clearly wounded Mrs Hughes quite personally. A couple of years ago, not long after the fair had last rolled into to Downton, she remembered how the chatter in the hall one evening had turned to the subject of Mrs Hughes having a 'fancy man', how Thomas and Miss O'Brien so delicately put it. Miss O'Brien took great pleasure in disclosing the snippets of information she'd picked up from various places over the years about Mrs Hughes's private life, of how she'd had the offer of marriage from a farmer – who rumour had it, was the very same man who was trying his hand again – but had refused in order to become head housemaid. Anna had hated hearing the pair of them gossip even more than usual, especially when it involved Mrs Hughes who was so reserved when it came to personal matters, and told them to leave it, only to be shot down by Thomas in no uncertain terms, who insisted that "she just loves going on about the lot of us to old Carson in her little room, so why should she be spared?". Though she blocked out the rest of their sniping that evening, Anna couldn't help but find her thoughts wandering from time to time to Mrs Hughes's predicament. There were many occasions, often quite unimportant ones, when she was sure she had seen herself reflected in the housekeeper's eyes, a vision of Mrs Hughes's younger self appearing very much in Anna's own form. They were from similar backgrounds, had taken almost identical paths in life, and she could not help but wonder that if she looked a little more closely whether she would be able to observe her future self there, plain for all to see. She thought briefly about whether Mrs Hughes had ever regretted the decision she made, the answer she had given to this man that she surely loved at one time. Perhaps the prospective future was not one she had planned, and so she felt entirely fulfilled with her choice. Or perhaps she had had no say in the matter, had had happiness wrenched from her hands, not quite in the same way Anna had, but knowing the hurt just as devastatingly. She felt a distinct twinge of sadness shoot up in her as she looked upon Mrs Hughes, who had her head bowed and gaze firmly placed in her lap. The housekeeper sniffed, then straightened herself and raised her eyes to meet directly with Anna's.

"I only wish things would have been different for you, my girl," Mrs Hughes said softly, patting Anna's arm reassuringly.

Then Anna cleared her throat, and put her head back with all of the confidence she could muster at that moment. "I don't, Mrs Hughes. I would do it all again exactly as it was, even if I knew it would end up with the same outcome. All of it, in a heartbeat."

Mrs Hughes smiled sadly at her, a hint of moisture visible in her eyes, before she moved her hand from Anna's arm to her knee. "Well, I'm glad. Now, I should start making things right down here before going upstairs and thinking what has to be done for Lady Sybil."

Lady Sybil was leaving as well today. She had completely forgotten.

"Oh, Mrs Hughes…I'll just go and change and then I'll be along…"

"You'll do no such thing," the housekeeper's command stopped her short. "The only thing you'll be doing this morning is going straight to your bed to rest. We'll just say that you've been taken unwell suddenly. Looking at you, it's not that far from the truth." As Anna arose, she gave Mrs Hughes a wholly grateful look, which was acknowledged by a small nod. "Now, go on. I don't want to see you again until you're bright eyed and bushy tailed."

Despite having had her orders from Mrs Hughes, Anna had crept into one of the empty rooms at the front of the house, and found herself glued to the spot by the window, unable to take her eyes away from the view outside. She knew she shouldn't have been torturing herself any further, but she would not be able to rest until she had seen him leave, although that would only be the beginning of her discomfort. She had been staring for an age, and simultaneously only a few moments, when she saw the carriage pull up, carrying  _her_ , sitting fine and tall above it. Just seconds later he appeared, walking a little quicker than usual, climbing carefully aboard. Anna noticed that he didn't turn his head to look at her sitting next to him, but instead kept facing firmly forward. That was one consolation, as minuscule as it was. The horse began to trot against the gravel, and the carriage started away, taking him now totally out of her life. The whispers in her head turned into screams under her breath.  _Look back, please. Look back before I won't be able to see you any longer. Just one last time_ , she pleaded. He kept still as a statue as the carriage rolled on, moving swiftly towards the gates. Before it disappeared out of sight, Anna saw her body shift slightly and her head swivel quickly over her shoulder, eyes smiling smugly from under the brim of her hat and their self-satisfied look noticeable even from the distance. They burned into her.

The ache struck her gut once more, and she walked the distance to her own room in a daze, slumping into bed as soon as she closed the door behind her, every little bit of emotion wiped from her being. As she lay, a hopeless tangle in the sheets, she fingered the spine of a book that stood at the bedside. A little volume, bound in a red cover with gold embossed print. She remembered how pleased she'd been when he'd given it to her as a birthday present, knowing how she'd enjoyed the couple of Christina Rossetti poems she'd stumbled upon in the poetry books he'd passed onto her. Anna lazily picked it up, and let the pages fall open on one poem.

 _We lack, yet cannot fix upon the lack:_  
_Not this, nor that; yet somewhat, certainly._  
 _We see the things we do not yearn to see_  
 _Around us: and what see we glancing back?_  
 _Lost hopes that leave our hearts upon the rack,_  
 _Hopes that were never ours yet seem'd to be,_  
 _For which we steer'd on life's salt stormy sea_  
 _Braving the sunstroke and the frozen pack._  
 _If thus to look behind is all in vain,_  
 _And all in vain to look to left or right,_  
 _Why face we not our future once again,_  
 _Launching with hardier hearts across the main,_  
 _Straining dim eyes to catch the invisible sight,_  
 _And strong to bear ourselves in patient pain?_

As she took in the words once more, from a new perspective that she wished she didn't identify so closely with, a tear fell onto the page, blotting a small section of the print. Unfortunately, unlike this narrator, she was fixed firmly upon what it was that she lacked, that had left her lost hopes and her broken heart strewn out upon the land and sea. She would be hardier from now, hardened even, and strong, somehow, though she had no idea where she would find this strength now, not when her main source had been depleted. Anna closed the book, placing it carefully back on the bedside table. Sinking her head on the pillow, she let her eyes effortlessly fall shut, beginning her search for the sight that would be now invisible to her in actuality but which could surely never be erased from her mind.

* * *

The dreams did not come to Anna that morning, and neither did they for some weeks afterwards. But they did materialise eventually, giving her comfort and making up for the thing she lacked from that day onwards, but which she would never truly go without. They were set in every place they had ever been, and every place she had imagined they would go to. The constant factor was her, and him, there by her side, as always was; as always would be. She worried no longer, discovered the strength that was still within her, that she had kept stored away from the last time they shared words, gazed into each other's eyes, the last time they had touched. She was certain about it, and the dreams kept telling her too; that she had known real love, knew it still. She loved and was loved by him, still despite their separation; he told her so, over and again. He would never stop loving her and she would not stop adoring him.

But now, when she felt she needed them the most, the dreams were absent. He was absent. In some respect it wasn't particularly strange; she hadn't dreamt of anything since he'd been arrested. It was as if she'd stopped possessing the ability to lose herself in that way, all of her energies directed into what was, or wasn't, happening in the real world rather than anywhere else. It wasn't for want of trying. She did have more of him now than she did then; his vows to her, and his name, which she would always announce with pride. She knew she still had his love, from a distance not as far but as unreachable as it would ever be. Yet with all of this in her possession, she could not reach him in the way she had always been able to rely on whenever his presence wasn't there. That feeling, looming larger over her than it had ever done before. She didn't want to be alone. But alone, she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem is taken from Later Life: A Double Sonnet of Sonnets (Part VI), Christina Georgina Rossetti.


	6. Chapter 6

The stars were being stubborn that night, particularly so. Their appearance could be quite temperamental at the best of times in the sky above Downton, and when they did deign themselves ready to emerge they still seemed somewhat reluctant to shine to their true celestial capability. As she sat on the stone steps leading off from the doorway, fixed fast to the earth and sweeping her eyes across the uncluttered sky, Anna couldn't help but be a little disappointed. Just the faintest glimmer wasn't too much to ask for, surely. She was taken back to when she was younger; back to her other home where the landscape was quite different. She remembered going to her father when she was unable to sleep, and remembered fondly him scooping her up and sneaking them out of the house, putting a finger to his lips as he tried to be completely serious in the face of her hushed giggles, then walking carefully down the country lanes with the warm bundle of her in his arms, taking them along the short distance to the rolling field. It was her absolute favourite thing to do as a child: to watch the endless, star-filled skies stretch out above her, always in awed wonder no matter how many times she gazed upon them, the act made even more magical as it was exclusively hers and her father's custom. If she was especially alert, they'd make it a game, splitting the sky in two and seeing how many stars they could each pick out. Anna would always be determined to reach at least a hundred, even if her eyes were fighting against her to remain open. Most nights she would win, though she wouldn't be able to recall, waking up back in her bed; the only evidence that they had been outside being the stars that had collected in her head, twinkling bright as soon as she closed her eyes. She was looking a little too hard for them now, but she didn't like to think she'd lost the knack. It wasn't her; they were just nowhere to be seen tonight. The moon, however, was unmissable; unmistakeable. Perhaps the stars had been scared off by its magnitude, or felt that there was no way they could possibly compete, even combined. It was bigger than Anna had noticed it in a while, or possibly had ever seen before. A startling sight, appearing like an incredible mirror it was impossible to shield from. Taking everything in and reflecting everything back, the whole world. Reflecting herself back to her, sitting so small beneath its brilliance, showing without any shadow how she looked, how she felt.

At that very moment, she was fine with being confronted in such an uncompromising manner. Right then, she felt perfectly serene and more than contented. Just yards from her, and even now as the day was winding down, the house was still alive with activity and commotion, continuing to adjust to its extra population. She could sense that the hubbub was there, but despite being so close to it, managed to keep herself largely unaffected, going off into another world. That was precisely how she had been for the past few weeks and months. While others had huffed about the upheaval and hassle caused by having Downton turned into a makeshift convalescence home, Anna hadn't recognised the problem. She was certainly not inconvenienced by the arrival of the soldiers; if anything, her workload had seemed to markedly lessen. It was nice to have the house full and busy at this period, she thought, and especially good that such a sprawling space could serve a purpose, such a significant one at that, becoming a haven for men who desperately needed the recuperation, the time to rediscover their strength and the simple comforts that they had been missing for so long. A slight shiver snaked down her as she recalled first looking upon the beds that lined the rooms, and those who had filled them, injured mentally and physically. No matter how many faces she saw with her eyes, and there were rows upon rows, there was only ever one that remained in her mind. It had always been a haven here, she thought, long before the sterilised scent of medical supplies had tinged the air and the trolleys filled with food and books were wheeled around.  _It was his haven, here_. She would shut her eyes and shake the thoughts free from her mind, though they remained constantly in her heart, and do her best to get on. It did no good to wonder quite so much, not when she'd received his assurances. She'd return to the hall, and hear the complaints about every aspect of the arrangements; how it was all utterly ridiculous, that there was no space to breathe or think anymore. The arguments didn't make much sense to her anyway, but especially not then. The house could have held the whole world under its roof, but it would still be empty, when he was not there.

And then, so much anticipated but somehow completely unexpected, just days ago he arrived quietly and unassuming at the back door. There was little fuss, aside from Mrs Hughes' exclamations; Anna had been glad that she'd been roused by the raised tone of the housekeeper's voice and had decided instinctively then not to dismiss the possibility, as she too often had to do against her will to prevent herself from raising her improbable hopes and subsequently being driven insane, but instead walk out to see what was happening. The grin lit up her face in an instant as his eyes fixed upon her, radiating with his own slightly disbelieving joy on seeing her there, reminiscent of the very first time he had beheld her but this instance charged with all the emotion that had run through their shared past and reawakened their present. She hadn't been able to stop smiling ever since; indeed, she had caught herself on several occasions standing in a room plumping pillows or sewing at the table with a ridiculously happy expression plastered upon her, and had to work hard to mask it with some pretence of equability. She knew she must have looked utterly daft, but she found it difficult to be concerned. She was having trouble finding trouble in any respect. All of the time she had wearied waiting, doubting that he would ever really return, evaporated to nothing, as if it had never even existed.

Lost in her thoughts no longer as she perceived steps above her shoulder, she felt the permanent smile flare up again as she continued to gaze upwards, pretending to be still engrossed in the skies just for a few seconds longer, before her attentions were absorbed totally elsewhere.

"Is stargazing this evening's activity?"

"Well, attempting to, but they don't seem to want to make themselves known. It's a shame really, but I suppose I shall have to find something else to occupy my time. Like talking to you."

She very nearly erupted into giddy laughter, shoulders shuddering a little, as she lifted herself to her feet. When she turned around to come face to face with him once more, she found herself stilled and a little stunned, nearly being knocked from her new position. A sight for sore eyes, indeed. As he stood there, his posture portraying newly-found confidence and making him even taller, with the moonlight falling upon his features, giving his eyes an added twinkle and setting his smile alight, he had quite taken her breath away. He had never looked more handsome, and she had never loved him more.

"I should be thankful to those stars, then."

She certainly was. Her eyes flickered down to his feet briefly, allowing her to recover herself before she found her new points of fascination again.

"And how are you this evening, Mr Bates?" Her lips flickered further upwards and there was a quiver in her voice as she said the words, indicating the giggles she was trying to keep under control. They had taken up a playful formality in greeting each other since his arrival, recalling the rather innocent beginnings of their relationship when the spark between them was just igniting.

"I'm well, thank you," he replied, with more than a hint of reciprocated flirtation apparent in his voice. "Very glad to be out here with you, I have to say. Away from prying eyes, although I'm sure they have the power to see through walls."

Anna hadn't failed to notice the stares that Miss O'Brien and Thomas had trained on them both, but most fixedly upon Mr Bates, in the days that he had been back. It was nothing new, and most of the time she was too busy staring deep into his own eyes to be too distracted, but they seemed even darker and filled with more disdain than usual. It really was a shame, that some people should be so consumed with resentment and hatred in the face of love. But well, that was their problem – or not, seeing as they only ever seemed to be content when they had something to gripe about.

"Some things never change," she sighed, rubbing her hand gently down his arm in the very same way she had done when he arrived back, the gesture telling him that there was no need to bother about it.

"Indeed, they don't. And mostly, I'm entirely relieved about that." His smile widened even further as he looked upon her, and now she really did have to fight to stop from throwing both of her arms around him. Instead, she returned the smile with a special one of her own.

"How was your day, Miss Smith? Pleasurable, I hope." He purred out the last of his words, and Anna's senses were lost completely. Still, she wanted to get the upper hand with her reply.

"Oh, just the usual; nothing hugely eventful," she managed to say, keeping mainly calm. "I can't complain too much though."

His eyes caught the glint that was glowing within her own as she tried to hold back her mischief, and she found it was hopeless. Catching his fingers with hers, quick and clandestine as if she were a naughty child stealing biscuits fresh from baking, she let her true feelings be known.

"I've been so restless all day, waiting for the night to come, to be with alone with you. I thought the day was going to go on forever. I'm so glad it's finally here; that we're here."

How she had missed their nights together; she couldn't put the sensation of sheer longing into words. She had thought that she had lost track of all the lost hours that had gone by without him, had had to dismiss them in order to survive, taking refuge in her dreams where he remained a constant. But now that he was really here again, they stacked up before her, a tower standing high above them both. Apart from a few snatched moments here and there, in the courtyard and after the concert the other night, they hadn't managed to spend that much time together to share everything they'd missed and to rediscover one another. It would take a little work, but the tower would soon be demolished and the period of his absence well and truly compensated for, to the very last second. Anna was to make sure of it.

She tightened her grasp on his hand, sweeping the pad of her thumb across his gently as they were entwined. "I only wish you would have come back sooner, that we wouldn't have had so much to make up for. Part of me wishes that I'd said something to Lord Grantham, even if it wasn't my place, so you two could have set things straight well before now."

There had been many a perturbed night in the long run she'd spent alone where she found herself wondering about him in the room above that pub in Kirbymoorside; about how easy it would be to go along on another of her afternoons off and simply stay there, in that room with him. He would have refused initially, fought for her honour, told her once more that it wasn't the way for her. But if she was persistent, she could very well break his resolve...and she was more than willing to be persistent. As it went, she did take the bus to Kirbymoorside of a Wednesday afternoon, as often as she could, but she never set foot inside The Red Lion again. She knew if she had broached the threshold, the moment she saw him the temptation would have been too overpowering to resist. She knew he was right really, that it wasn't the right path, that it wouldn't be long. But she felt she had waited long enough, several eternities. In a way, it had been even worse knowing that he was so close by, tantalisingly within reach rather than on the other side of the country. At least then, she could contain a sense of resigned restraint.

Anna felt his fingers shift against hers as he began to speak, his voice low and laced with weariness.

"If I'm entirely honest, I was rather glad he didn't come to know of my presence a moment sooner than he did. At least, the side that was certain that I could never be deserving to return here was. That side wished he never would come, and that you wouldn't have discovered me either."

Her face shadowed and she was completely puzzled; what was he saying? That he wished he had never seen her again, that they wouldn't have been reunited? She couldn't ever have believed that; he wouldn't be able to deceive her so fervently.

"Certainly, I was disappointed and embarrassed about how I had left things with Lord Grantham; I'd let him down and betrayed his trust awfully, and I didn't think I'd be able to ever look him in the eye again, never mind resume my position." His head dropped and he swiped his free hand over his face, trying to disguise the uncertainty within his eyes, before he steeled himself and looked at her once more, reaching straight into her soul.

"But what I was more terrified of than anything was the possibility of being rejected by you. I was so ashamed of how I departed, the way I treated you that night, leaving you in such sorrow with barely an explanation…it was completely reprehensible." He exhaled a heavy sigh and as he continued, his words shuddered. "After all the pain I'd put you through, I was sure that there was no way you could possibly want me ever again. And just the thought was enough to make me relinquish all hope."

Blinking back hasty tears that had sprung into her eyes at the thought of the torments that still, and likely would always, plague him, Anna stroked a hand delicately across his cheek, feeling him tremble beneath her touch.

"Silly beggar," she said softly, "Of course I want you. I thought I had made it absolutely clear how much I wanted you when I went to see you." A barely visible smile quirked on his lips and she encouraged it by beaming herself, as bright as the moon. "It's not just that I want you, which I do so much and with every part of me." Her thumb rubbed over his jawline, before her other fingers dropped to delicately ghost over the sinews of his neck, her actions conveying as much as her words. Her voice dropped to a low, insistent tone. "I  _need_  you. And I always will."

His eyes had seemed to gloss over, and he squeezed their joined hands to demonstrate that his need for her was just as strong.

"Anna, you don't know how overjoyed I am to hear you say that. The nights I had spent in hell, going through the torture of being sure that you would turn your back on me, renounce your love…though I would have understood even if it would have ruined me, and it would have, beyond question. You would have had every right to despise me given the damage I had inflicted upon your heart."

She had to resist the urge either to burst into disbelieving laughter or wracking sobs. The sting of that night, and the agony she had felt for nights afterwards, was still faintly apparent somewhere within her, and the fissures had appeared in her heart. In moments she had wanted to, believed that it would have made everything so much easier if she could have traded her undying love for something bitter and cynical, but she knew that it was impossible for her to hate him in any way. Even in her darkest times, when all she wished to do was to tear herself inside out, rage and scream at the world, she could only do it at everyone else but him. Yes, it was undeniable that his actions had damaged it to some degree, but at the same time he was the only one who could ever heal her heart afterwards.

"I would never have done such a thing, never had the thought even crossed my mind. I love you, with everything I have within me, and that overcomes everything. I sincerely hope you realise that now."

Now, she felt his hand cup her face and everything within her thrilled at the unbelievable mixture of roughened fingertips and soft, sincere sentiment that his touch held. "I do," he whispered, and the words, so simple but with so much true meaning behind them, sent a delightful shiver down her spine.

After a moment suspended in time, his touch left her and he began to speak, now more assured.

"When Lord Grantham came to see me, once we'd both got over our pride, we talked about many things. It was when Captain Crawley and William had gone missing in action, and he was wracked with abject fear. I tried my best to focus on what he was saying, and offer my support in some way, but I have to confess, my thoughts were entirely elsewhere and quite selfish. Lord Grantham was speaking about being in despair, about the very real possibility of the future being destroyed. Everything he said, all I could think was about how it related to you, to us. The idea of the future we had planned being shattered irreparably, of you being lost to me and how I would have no reason to be optimistic about anything again. It took every bit of willpower I had not to run out on him, creating yet more mess to apologise for later."

He swallowed hard and shifted his weight on the step where they both stood.

"Then he said something that struck me like nothing else. That we had to stay in the present while we still could. Of course he was referring to the possibility of Captain Crawley being alive, but those words seemed so important to our situation. I'd spent so long dwelling in the past – I feel sometimes it's a lesson I will never unlearn – but I realised then that it was the present I needed to be focusing on and seizing, while I still had the smallest semblance of hope that I could change things and you would still be waiting for me. I don't intend to run from the future but I'm tiring of worrying over what it will hold."

His hand found hers once more, fingers sliding across carefully. Anna responded in kind.

"You shouldn't worry. We both shouldn't. We do need to keep ourselves in the present; it's wonderful advice."

Feeling certain that all of his unfounded doubts about the strength of her love for him had been well and truly allayed and even more content than she had been before he appeared tonight, she was determined to do just that. Even upon his arrival back, she had found her thoughts occasionally wandering to the various possibilities, the parallel universes they may have found themselves living in if things had gone differently. The one that occurred to her the most was how it would have been if she would have gone ahead and thrown everything up, left Downton and her position so they could run away together. Where would they have found themselves; in London, in Ireland, on the other side of the world even? Living in sin, though it would be absolutely heavenly. At times she was still a little shocked at herself for saying it, for daring to think so wantonly, but if the fates hadn't fell in their favour she would have had no shame in reissuing the offer a thousand times over; to be his mistress, if only he would permit it. What they would have done, everything they could finally be to one another, in every respect…the possibilities explored and exploded in her mind.

 _The present._ It wasn't perfect but she was so thankful they were going to be facing it together.

"It's like I told you; from now, we must embrace the feeling of happiness. We have every right to. At this very moment, I know I could not be happier."

He smiled fully at her, letting joy take over in the security of every word she had uttered. "I feel exactly the same. How could I not be ecstatic every second you are by my side?"

She felt the grin burst on her own face as he stretched out his arms and pulled her into an embrace. Her hands drifted lazily up and down the back of his jacket as his closed fast and strong around her waist. They both stared out towards the sky and she felt his body jerk slightly as she rested her head against his chest, settling into the same stance they had been in so many times before. He was gesturing towards the sparkling silver moon that was reigning over them, over Downton.

"You know, I looked for the moon every night when we were apart. When I was in London – I was in the house alone for most of the time that I was there anyway, but I'd always make sure I spent some time out amongst the night. The same when I was in Kirbymoorside. It was my way of observing our routine, making sure it still went on. The moon is the night's constant and I thought if we shared that, if at the very same moment perhaps you were looking upon it too, just for a second, then at least we could maintain our bond in some fashion."

Anna smiled as she listened to his words reverberate against her. The thought was so romantic, and she was glad to know that he wanted to preserve their custom as much as she had. They were each other's constant, and always would be, through night and day, days and years. With wide eyes, she gazed into the shimmering moon high above. It was incredibly iridescent and seemed to possess so much hidden power, power that nobody could possibly know. A gigantic crystal ball. He had mentioned needing one to know whether he would stay. Momentarily she felt cold and a little unsettled, but she soon forgot the feeling as she nestled closer to him, becoming so close that she could have disappeared into him. They would stay in the present.

One of his hands had come up to rest on her shoulder. "Patience is a virtue, most certainly in your case. You've got your reward, Miss Smith."

She craned her head upwards to follow the hand that was now pointing to the left of where they were standing, up at the sky. Two exquisitely shining stars had materialised, and were twinkling with such splendour that they appeared as if they were engaged in a dance. Anna smiled to see them, thinking that she wasn't going to scale the dizzy heights of her younger starspotting days tonight, but revelled in the victory that was much greater. She had got her reward alright, some days before.

Turning back towards him, touching her hand briefly once more to his cheek to make sure his complete attention was focused upon her, she then stood on tiptoes to catch his lips with a kiss, feather-light at first, leaving them both yearning for more, then it deepened, the sweet sensuality flooding their senses for a moment in time. When they could bear to, both pulled away a little dazed but satisfied by the expression of the depth of their respective devotion. His hands had risen, to rest splayed on either side of her body, and hers had ended up clasped around the back of his neck.

"Was that my reward?" he asked, his voice almost a growl of barely hidden desire.

"Well," Anna looked him straight in the eyes and laughed impishly, "if you want to look at it that way," before she pulled his head gently down for one more kiss in the moonlight, leaving him in no doubt whatsoever – though it was just as much for her benefit, if not more.


	7. Chapter 7

A prolonged lack of sleep could have many varied effects on a person, effects that perhaps were to be expected given the circumstances but were still strange for their pronouncement at often the most inappropriate of times. The repercussions Anna experienced were, thankfully, not too extreme in nature but were beginning to occur frequently enough to call attention to the fact that even if just for a minute or so every few days, she was behaving out of character, and sometimes quite oddly indeed. Her work, for the most part, was still performed impeccably but little blunders had started to slip past her usually careful eye, leaving her perilously open to a firm ticking-off by Mr Carson. As it was, the most severe punishment she had received so far was some tutting and a disapproving nod. But she was sure she couldn't get away with these small but significant errors much longer. Soon, a last-minute rearrangement in the blink of an eye or a hastily thought-up excuse of why she had been momentarily dazed would not save her; that would do for younger, less experienced girls but not for the capable, exemplary head housemaid. Of late, she was getting increasingly clumsy – pricking her fingers all over with pins, dropping cutlery. She'd very nearly caused a relic of a vase to come crashing to the floor in the drawing room as she absent-mindedly polished, but managed to claim back her reflexes just in time (though, she was sure she'd heard the Dowager Countess complain about how frightful it was on more than one occasion, so she reasoned it wouldn't have been a great loss). She had never been the most alert of people at the earliest dawning of the day, but recently it was taking longer for her to get into gear. A well-established routine that would usually take five minutes took ten; fifteen if it had to be restarted due to her doing something in the wrong order. Just yesterday, she had to dash back and forth between rooms when she realised that she'd laid Lady Edith's dress out for Lady Mary and vice versa, and then later on it took her three attempts to hear the lunch bell. She heard Mrs Hughes's voice from somewhere, inquiring to whether she was quite alright.  _I think I got out of the wrong side of bed,_ she said and smiled apologetically. Accepted without further question this time, but really, this would not do.

Most of all, lack of sleep was making her reckless. Or at least, that's what she had put it down to when choosing to consider things rationally. Actually, even if she slept deeply and peacefully for long hours each night, she would have been engaging in the same dangerous pursuits. She found that she was unable to stop herself each time from pushing just a little further, edging just that bit closer…she couldn't decide whether it was worrying or wildly exciting that she was embracing this new-found irresponsibility that was so unlike her. On one hand, she had no intention of doing such things brazenly, to be noticed by all and sundry – she was still wary of the watchful eyes and the boundaries of decorum, just about. Yet on the other, the thrills that played within her when she embarked on these partly uncontrolled actions were too delightful too ignore; the frissons that accompanied a devil-may-care attitude completely addictive. They compelled her to keep on taking chances where she could, and often precisely when she shouldn't. And so it went on. Her fingertips staying firmly upon the side of his body, prolonging their touches until just after someone else entered the hall, a teasing whisper of a smile on her face. A whisper in the middle of dinner, the disposal of a private thought in a public place. Letting out a short burst of a laugh as conversation went on around them, as she delicately trailed a stocking foot up the length of his calf, unseen. When she was feeling especially daring, she would take it into new surroundings. More than once as he had passed her on his way to Lord Grantham's room, she had pulled him surreptitiously to the side of a not-so-secret corridor, an unmistakeable ember of desire flashing in her eyes which was quelled as she pressed her lips to his, pressed her body to his for the briefest but most blissful of moments, smiling as he hastened to recover himself before he went back on his way; savouring the taste and the scent of him surrounding her still, sustaining her until the next endeavour. She was grateful to the small fragments of intimacy that were allowed to them, especially in such an enormous house, but they were fast becoming insufficient. It was not so much an urge that was mounting within her, but a need. A necessity for something new; something more. She wondered if she would ever have enough of him, even though she knew that he would always be everything she wanted, and much more besides.

It was when she lay in bed, as the dusk bathed her, that the need keened itself most strongly. With each passing night it only served to intensify, until it consumed every inch of her being in mind, body and soul, until she burned with such yearning that she felt if she moved even just slightly, she would set the whole place alight. The thought – no, the  _fantasy_  – enthralling her, enchanting her, spurring her to act upon it at once. It would be ever so easy for her to do; to remove the key from its hook and swiftly place it into the pocket of her apron, where it would rest until darkness began to close in. Briefly exposed, its silver glint would light the way as, after a second of hesitation, she would slide it into the lock. Just a little twist and it would lie open in front of her. Silently, not even the sigh of her catching breath making an echo, she'd pass through, over the forbidden threshold, into uncharted territory. It seemed so unbelievable, that this barrier had kept them separated for so long, making them prisoners to their own emotions when they were just yards away from one another. Now, she was mere steps away. Her heart hammered against her chest, a rush of blood to her head. Only one more, and there was no further to go. A soft knock upon the door. Perhaps there would be no answer, perhaps he was still occupied upstairs. In that instance, she would enter and await him, becoming a perfect surprise, perching patiently on the edge of the bed – or dare even she climb in? More likely he would already be inside; laying on the bed, long legs stretched out, a book in his hands, a studied look of concentration and absorption on his face. She'd observe, a little triumphantly, the look change as he glanced up to meet her gaze, closing the door ever so carefully behind her. A haze of confusion, a great deal of shock, a curious fascination and clear rapture all apparent there upon the sight of her before him. He'd ask her what she was doing, attempt to elevate himself in his fluster; even in the midst of the night he must be mindful, must retain his overwhelming sense of nobility. Yet it was futile, any movements thwarted before they had begun; he was mesmerised by the way she was moving towards him, looking like an angel, a goddess, a vision from all of his most pleasant dreams come immaculately to life. And then, effortlessly, she was right in front of him, kneeling between his legs upon the bed, blue eyes sparkling and searing freely with the passion she had kept restrained for so long. He would open his mouth to speak, say this couldn't possibly happen, but she would silence his protests with a kiss, and then suddenly he found that he wasn't protesting at all, all of his responses acting quite in the opposite fashion. His arms tight around her as he shifted them both, lay her head gently down upon the pillow. She would close her eyes and feel the smile form on her face before she felt him kiss her, the first of many that would fall in the coming minutes and hours. It wasn't wrong; it was the most right she had felt about anything. They were to be married after all, eventually; they had already promised their hearts and souls to one another in the ink of the night, it was the natural order of events for their bodies to follow. It had been so long in the waiting, and neither of them could wait any longer. She felt him all around her, within her, and she wanted to sing. Her every dream was coming true and it was utterly wonderful...

Anna opened her eyes to find herself still there: in her own bed, her own room. Despite it all, the growing recklessness that consumed her a little more each evening, she had not yet summoned the courage to take the key into her possession. Oh, she'd been on the verge the last few nights, but something had always stopped her short. It seemed he wasn't the only one with a resolute resolve for honour; she was a little startled, though she should have known really that she wasn't to be so easily swayed by any outside influence or effect from her true nature. Still, it was a disappointment. She let out a sigh and turned with a frustrated heave into the dark onto her side. Her fantasy would remain exactly that for the foreseeable future.

* * *

Somehow she had made it through the hallway, even with legs that felt as if they had been transformed to stone and a stubborn knot still resting in the pit of her stomach, the same one that had formed there hours ago and had determined to stay put. Not expecting him to arrive back from London until the morning at least, it had been such a nice surprise to see him appearing at the door of the hall in the early evening, her heart jumping into her throat at the very sight of him. It had soon turned sour when she caught the look in his eyes, a mixture of exasperation, dejection and disillusionment, and how they were patently imploring towards her. When she'd gone from the table and met him in relative privacy, just inches away, he hardly said anything but his gaze continued to speak volumes.  _Oh, good God. It hadn't gone well, not at all._ Acute anxiety churned within her. What on earth could have happened? There was a cut by his left eye. Instinctively her hand had drifted up to cup his cheek; she needed to take a closer look to ensure he wasn't badly injured and also to offer some small crumb of comfort. He had brushed it away almost instantly, and her heart sunk down to her feet. Leaving her crestfallen, he swiftly went to his room to unpack his things and to get some much-needed rest after walking all the way from the station – silly man – and she returned to her place at the table, wracked with the worry that had not left her all night since. She needed to know what had occurred there, and yet she wanted to know of anything but. He said it was worse than she could possibly imagine; she wasn't sure how that could have been, as her imagination conjured up every potential scenario, some with distinctly disturbing outcomes. Had she turned violent; had  _he_ turned violent? She wasn't entirely sure that she didn't condone it. Did she involve someone else in the altercation? The raised voices and hurled hurtful words echoed in her head, deafening her, and her palms became drenched with sweat.

The time for dinner came, and he took his place next to her almost without her being aware, head down and staunchly silent, a shadow having descended over him and far from passing. She tried desperately to meet the corner of his eye as she raked over her food, making it look as though she was making some sort of effort, the look within her own eyes frantic. Her fingers wavered just next to where his hand lay wrapped around the glass of water, stretching towards it rather hopelessly, primed for the second to seize it reassuringly but her remnants of bravery failing her. He stayed for around fifteen minutes after he'd finished his meal, making a show to please her and everyone else, before he rose to retire for the night. She couldn't help staring at him as he left the hall, her forlorn gaze following his every minute movement until he'd disappeared completely. It took everything she had not to jump up and chase him along the hallway, grab at his arm and plead with him disclose to her everything that had gone on. It was alright if the details were awful; she'd had the time to steel herself for the worst, or at least she convinced herself she had. Really, she'd probably fall to pieces as soon as the first statement left his lips. It would be a night of torture not knowing, and it had been so far as she had sat up in her room, scared even to lie down. About an hour ago she knew he'd gone back downstairs, now that everyone else had retired and the way was clear. She could feel him manoeuvring and shifting around beneath the floor under her feet, despite hearing no sound. She could feel his sorrow filtering through, rising up towards her own, and her stomach flipped over once more. Neither of them would get any peace tonight; not until the matter was resolved.

Anna stood under the doorway, her left hand bracing the wooden frame. She hadn't felt so tentative since she'd first encountered him here alone in the night all those years ago, but that was a different kind of hesitancy, complete with nervous excitement. She closed her eyes briefly and wished that she could transport herself back to that time, when everything was so much simpler. But it was wrong for her to think in such a way; there had to be rough with the smooth, that was just the course of life, and she had promised to stay by his side, weathering whatever storm was building on the horizon with him and seeing it through together. He stood with his hands against the kitchen sink, his back set against her and his figure slumped heavily. She bristled to see him in such a state, so clearly tormented and distressed; it had been a while since he had been like this. She watched him, heavy and set still except for his left heel rocking against the floor and his shoulders wavering ever so slightly. It was though he had the weight of several worlds resting upon them; in the black of the night, she could almost discern the visibility of their burden. Oh God, she had no idea what to do, and millions of ideas of what she wanted to do, if only the circumstances were different. One of them had to make the move, and it was painfully apparent that it was not going to be him. She summoned all the strength at her disposal, her voice shakily cracking through the engulfing silence.

"Mr Bates…" she began, before faltering and then stopping altogether. Something cracked in her throat and for an awful moment she was convinced she was going to burst into tears, the fear that had built within her finding its outlet at the most inappropriate time. She wasn't even sure that he had heard her. She swallowed away the lump that had nearly closed her airways over, and made a second attempt. "Mr Bates, are you alright?"

The silence remained. Had he even registered that she was there? She moistened her lips that had gone completely dry and went to repeat her question before he answered with a singular word.

"Yes."

Of course, that meant that he wasn't. She didn't need to say otherwise; it would be pointless, he'd only deny his true feelings, an action he seemed to revert to, panic-stricken, whenever trouble reared its head. It was an utterly stupid question, anyway; why had she even asked it? Every approach had left her. She had thought about being humorous, which was her usual tack when the mood around them had darkened, was going to say something about Mrs Patmore being deeply offended that both of them had hardly touched their food that night, but she knew it wasn't appropriate; the situation was far too severe for her silly joking. There was no other way, she reasoned, than to get straight to the heart of the matter.

"You know, whatever happened while you were in London, I should like to know. I don't think it's too much for me to ask…" – that was the softest way of putting it; she felt she had every right to know. Still, she wanted to go carefully. He hadn't responded, didn't even turn to look at her. She ventured a little more. "Whatever was said, whatever was…done, on either side. I think it's better for everyone if it's out in the air…"

"Anna, please!" His voice sounded out, low but harshly firm; curt, in fact. She felt herself shudder very slightly. Still, he remained with his back towards her. After a sigh, his voice came again, softer this time, and his remorse was clear. " _Please."_

She sighed inwardly as she pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, taking out some sewing that had been left unfinished. Deep down, she knew it was best to leave off enquiring him when a black cloud had took hold; indeed, it was best to say nothing, to let him ruminate on his own until he felt he could finally come to her and let everything out. But that didn't stop her from wishing he would change, in this one small respect; and it certainly didn't stop her from worrying, not just about what had occurred just hours ago and how it had altered their chances for happiness, but about their future and how they would deal with any problems that would arise. No matter how far they had come, it seemed he would always react in this way whenever things took a wrong turn, and her heart broke at the thought of him shutting her out, even if he had little idea he was doing so. She couldn't be left on the sidelines of his heart; the thought was unbearable. She focused on the intricate task of putting the thread through the eye of the needle, to stop herself from crying.

He turned around finally, his face all at once ashen and clouded with darkness, watching her as her hands began to work fluently.

"I'm not the best of company at present."

She worked through a stitch, and then raised her head to look him firmly in the eyes.

"It doesn't matter to me, I'm staying here." She glanced momentarily down at the table before meeting his gaze once more, all of the fear and love radiating through her. "I'm not going to leave you like this."

She never could leave him when he was in distress and hurt so visibly; even if she was not with him in body, her thoughts would always remain focused solely upon him. A look of profound affection flickered in his eyes, along with traces of guilt for the times he had left her in similarly trying circumstances.

After standing in the same spot aimlessly for a couple of minutes he decided to sit too, taking the seat across from her. She continued to sew, while he stared ahead into space collecting his thoughts. They stayed in silence for some time. Every now and then, Anna would glance up at him to see if there was any change in his disposition. The cut on his face had begun to bleed again.

"At least let me clean that up," she said, going slowly over to him. She had to do something to show that she could more than adequately take care of him, cosmetically if he would not yet allow her to do so emotionally. A small nod indicated his permittance. She filled a bowl with warm water and collected some supplies and a washcloth from the cupboard, and then stood by the chair next to him, quietly questioning with her eyes as to whether she could take the seat.

"Anna, you don't need my permission." She smiled weakly as he pushed out the chair to allow her to sit.

Tenderly, she raised the cloth to his temple and wiped the wound gently. He winced, more out of instinct than anything else. She put the cloth down on the table and, with searching and slightly hesitant fingertips, touched her hand to his face, in the same way as she had done when he had first arrived back earlier in the evening. This time, he did not dismiss it but instead yielded to her touch. His sensitive response set a spark off within Anna; she knew they were getting somewhere, even if words were remaining unspoken. She had to tear her hand away to immerse the cloth in the bowl of water, and felt his ache the second it had left him. As if reading her mind, and softening due to the contact between them, he began to speak.

"I despise that place." His words were heavy but measured. "I never had an especially strong affection for it, but when Mother was alive, at least it held something good. I loved it simply because she loved it so much. But now she's gone, and with everything that's occurred there, especially in the last few months…" he sighed, "My view of it has been tainted completely. It's a shame in some sense; I had hoped to take you there one day, show you around, bring you to Mother's house."

She put the cloth carefully to his head again. "We can still do that; you should hold onto your good memories. Don't let them be ruined. It's not what your mother would have wanted."

The faintest trace of a resigned smile was detectable on his face, giving way to a grimace of pain as she dabbed the antiseptic solution onto the cut. She saw that he was deep in thought once more, and she began to think of them together in London; happy, carefree, being amongst the future vision that had persisted clear and unharmed in her mind despite taking so many knocks that would have shattered the dreams of many others.

A familiar maleficent figure appeared to blacken the perfect image. "That woman is utterly impossible." He didn't even have to utter the name to make the acid rise from her stomach and the twinge of pain course through her heart. Anna's gaze fell into her lap as she continued to dab at his wound, her hand trembling a little. Her vision had blurred and a pounding noise was making the sound hollow, yet she heard his words lucidly.

"What on earth possessed me to ever cross her path, never mind marry her." Even though she knew there was no love, not even a liking, there, the notion still hurt. She could tell he sensed her sorrow, and so appropriately curbed his angry statements. "It's because I'm a fool."

Her eyes shot up. "No. You must never say that." She agreed that perhaps he was then, for associating with her, but that was the past; that was another lifetime. "If you are, then I am too."

"There is nobody on this earth less foolish than you." His hand stretched to cover hers that lay balled next to the bowl of water.

Now she had been conjured up, they couldn't avoid her spectre. He told how he'd arrived at the house to find her, bottles strewn around her on the table. She'd drunk a lot, but somehow it only sharpened her mind and her capacity to be cunning; she could always handle drink better than he could, it was her ally in the fight while it was his conqueror. As soon as she saw him she had begun cackling, as if the plan had all been perfectly orchestrated to fall in her favour. He resolved to stay calm, not let his bubbling rage rise to the surface to play into her hands.  _You didn't think it would be that easy, did you, Johnny? That I'd just roll over, take your money like a poor beggar and run along, never to be seen or heard of again? Oh no, that's not me at all, and you should know it._ She took a swig from a whisky bottle.  _You won't get rid of me that easily. As long as I've got breath in my body, and even long afterwards, you'll never be happy. I'll make damn sure of it._ There was a contemptuous expression on her face, and she rolled her eyes that were full of scorn.  _No, not you, and not your precious Anna either…_

The dormant anger had started to swell fiercely within him as she had uttered Anna's name. She had her ace card now; knew that the mention of Anna would touch not just one but every nerve in his body, hit him right where it hurt the most.  _Not that I really have to try very hard,_ she said.  _You'll mess it up for yourself anyway, like you always have done._ Sooner or later, his hot-headed temper would show through, and send Anna running away from him in terror.

His gaze fell to the floor on the admission; he'd feared that tonight had been the beginning of that turn of events. She assured him that it would take much, much more for her to ever be deterred.

Even if it didn't, she would eventually get bored, frustrated, fed up of him. A pretty young woman like her, stuck with an old, crippled excuse of a man that he was. What did she see in him in the first place? Someone better would come along; there were a whole range of suitors, with ability, prospects and lots to offer her.  _She has plenty of opportunity, in that house, all those young Lords and Dukes visiting…don't try telling me she hasn't taken the chance before. Oh yes, I bet before you came along she'd been with them all..._ She hissed out her vile words.  _I'm quite certain that your sweet little Anna is nowhere near as innocent as you think she is…_

That was the final straw.

"I would never, ever, shame you by repeating her disgusting and completely false accusations. I am utterly ashamed that I had heard them; that I brought her here, into our lives."

He sighed wearily, and put his hands to his head. Anna's heart ached intensely for him with every beat it gave out. Even though she felt like she was crumbling on the inside, she put on her strongest, most unmovable outward expression and took one of his hands away from the side of his face, clasping it to her.

"We mustn't let her think she's got away with it, that she's won. Let her say what she wants; I don't care one bit. And while I'm honoured that you do, I wish you wouldn't either." She gazed into his eyes, trying to convey all of her utmost confidence and belief in them, their future that would still go ahead. "There will be a way. Even if it takes years; I am not going anywhere. We will be married and we will have a life together. We will be happy, and she will hate it. But we won't care; we shall be too overjoyed to take any notice. And that is how it will be."

He shook his head softly in wonder at the firmness of her argument as she brought the cloth back to his temple, carrying on as she had done before, unfazed.

"How do you put up with me?"

She let out a short laugh. "It's not a case of putting up. It's love. She might not have been able to stand by you, but that's because she didn't love you. And her loss is my greatest gain."

Anna beamed at him, and did so completely naturally. Her smile and defiance in the face of certain danger had melted his antagonism away. His fingers caressed hers where their entwined hands lay in her lap.

"If I had one wish…it would be that we could be married right now, this very instant. God, I wish so much that you were my wife." Anna's heart started to thump and she flushed all over at the thought. She wished for nothing more. "If only I'd known that you were on this earth, somewhere…I'd never have looked Vera's way." Even with the mention of her name, she couldn't help but smile.

He unfurled their hands, and began to trace his fingertips across her upturned palm. She shivered inside. "It shouldn't be like this, having all of our actions dictated by everyone else, not when we love each other so." His gaze darkened, bearing into her, and she was overcome. "Anna, I want you. I want you so much, I can barely stand it…"

Before she could reply in kind and confess that she wanted him just as much, his lips were on hers and he was kissing her with all of the fervour he had within him, his frustration at the day that had passed turning into unrestrained passion in the midst of the night. One hand at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer to his embrace; the other smoothing down her side towards her waist, the ardour of his kiss deep and relentless. She'd been shocked for the first few seconds, taken aback at the boldness of his action – but she'd decided that she liked it, really rather a lot. She responded, kissing back with as much longing. Her hand tangled in his hair, moving to caress his neck as he sidled her onto his lap, his tongue sliding into her mouth. She was sure she let out a cry, though she wasn't exactly sure what she was doing, becoming completely lost. In the small part of her mind that hadn't been consumed with their declarations of desire, she considered that this wasn't quite the way she had imagined it would happen, but she found it hard to be deeply concerned. In all honesty, this was better. Not just the spontaneity of it, but the fact that they both so desperately craved the comfort, particularly after today. What better way would there be to be consoled than by finally physically demonstrating their love for one another?

She was still getting used to the sensation, relishing the taste, the feel of him, when he wrenched away suddenly, repentance set firm upon his features. Anna was still searching for breath minutes after he had brought their budding union to an abrupt end.

"I'm sorry, Anna…I'm so, so sorry. Forgive my rash actions." He took the hand that was still resting just above his collar from his neck, and swiped his own there. "This isn't right. I don't know what I was thinking. You deserve more; more than this, more than me."

Her breathing was slowly returning to some regular form. "That's for me to decide…please don't be sorry, I'm not." She ran her hands lightly from the front of his collar, down his waistcoat, the sparks of desire still apparent within her fingertips. "Please, I want you to go on…"

He shifted in the chair, making her leap from where she sat.

"I can't. Not like this. I can never be sorry enough, Anna. For everything."

Like the hours before, she watched him intently as he headed from the hall, away from her and the new need that had set firm within her.

* * *

The time had come, and although it still wasn't her place to be there, she didn't have anything to lose any longer. As she passed through the door, her eye was fixed to the shining key dangling on its hook. She took it without hesitation. It might have been the sheer exhaustion, the stuporous grip that insomnia had held her in for weeks; it might have been that the pride and assurance that had come from being his wife had given her the courage to assert what she felt was her right. The final point that had spurred her on was the conversation she had overheard Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson having that morning; it had been three months since Mr Bates had been arrested and there had been no announcement of a trial date as of yet, who knows how long it would take? Other arrangements would have to be made, the space vacated and his belongings stored elsewhere for the time being, even though they were sure he would be back in his post soon enough. She had to take her chance before that happened, before he was taken even further from her, his presence swept from the house like dust to be cleaned away without trace.

Under the cover of the shadows and with silence all around, she placed the key into the lock. It didn't have as much weight as she had expected. The short distance down the corridor to his room seemed like an unending journey. When she stood before his door, she took a shaky but full breath, before pushing down on the handle. It hardly took an effort; it was though it had been waiting for her, was welcoming her, calling to her to come within. The first, and last, time she had ever been in his room. It was quite overwhelming. The experience couldn't be prevented from being tinged with bittersweet sadness, and she lamented that she could not have entered in better circumstances.

She closed the door behind her and stood for a while, frozen to the spot. Her back was firm against it, feeling sure that she needed the support. Gazing around the small space, she inhaled once more, expecting to breath him in, the traces of him in every pore. Even though everything had remained in its place untouched, nothing of him seemed to exist there now. Not his smell, not the prints of his fingers upon the walls or furniture. It just couldn't be detected. She started to panic. She'd left it too long. Shaking the bewilderment that had surrounded her, she sprung into action and moved into the room, walking in every step he had put down, immersing herself in his small private world.

Reaching the wardrobe, she traced her hands across the wood and the embossed handles, trying to recall how his hands had lingered in the very same place on so many occasions, before flinging the doors wide open. It hit her immediately; his scent – the soap and shaving cream, the shoe polish, the faintest hint of sweat, all still on the three shirts that hung there.  _Him._  She closed her eyes against the tears of relief and pining that had begun to stab and smiled faintly as she took the fabric between her fingers. Her hands brushed along the trousers, the suit jackets. She opened her eyes to find that they had rested upon the one had worn on their wedding day. The stream of tears began to cascade steadily down her cheeks.

She went across to the table at his bedside, stacked with books. How he had ever found the time to get through so many, she had always wondered. One by one she picked them up, opening the pages with cautious fingers, letting her fingers roam down the pages, placing them back down in just the order they had been in, piles of ones, read and unread. She got to the last one, a well-thumbed poetry anthology by Yeats, and, as she flicked through, a small piece of paper drifted to the floorboards. Kneeling to pick it up, she recognised her own handwriting. It hadn't been much; just a silly little note she had written while she was in a particularly frivolous mood, and had slipped into his jacket pocket. She thought he might have misplaced it, or even thrown it away; it was only a scrap of paper after all. Unfolding it, turning it in her hands, and looking at what she had crafted, a tumult of emotions stirred within her. Her eyes raked over the letters again and again:

_John,_

_(seeing as you want me to call you that now)_

_(though I think you shall always be Mr Bates to me)_

_This is just a note to say that I love you;_

_Whatever may come, wherever we may be,_

_You shall always have me, heart and soul._

_Forever yours,_

_Anna x_

That he had kept such a small token carefully tucked away in one of his favourite books astounded her. The little act of love took her quite unawares, and she was already somewhat adrift. She wiped the wetness from her face, to not much effect.

Oblivious to how she was moving, she sat on the edge of his bed, running her fingers over the sheets that he had lay in for so many nights, reading, thinking; dreaming, she was sure, even though he never admitted it, about her. A cry choked her, and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing softly and silently. She let the wave wash over her, wallowed in her grief over him, before she felt weighed down with fatigue. Curling her legs up onto the bed and then stretching them out again, she settled onto her side and lay her head gently down upon the pillow.

She woke in a daze in the early sunlight, opening her eyes hazily to see Mrs Hughes standing over her, the key held tight in her hands and worry upon her face.  _Oh Anna, you really shouldn't be here._ Remembering where she was, she stumbled over the barely formed thoughts in her mind to offer an explanation.  _I only closed my eyes for a little bit…it had just been a few minutes._ It had been hours; the longest period of unbroken sleep she had in months, since that fateful day. Mrs Hughes sat down by her side, pulling her up, telling her she needed to go back to her room. She was still half-asleep, felt like she was stranded somewhere else.  _I need this._ Mrs Hughes thought she meant sleep at first, and nodded.  _I need something to know that he's still here…I need to have him here with me._  Mrs Hughes took her hand, didn't meet her eyes, led her out of the room and along the corridor, back to her own.

That night, when she had been dismissed for the day, she opened the door to find her room had been cleaned thoroughly. She was relieved; she had been meaning to do it, but hadn't been able to muster the energy, especially not after today. She removed her apron and had begun to unfasten the buttons at her wrists, when she saw the items laid out there.

A little pile of books: a small selection of his, including the Yeats anthology. A pocket watch, a boot brush and polish. Two handkerchiefs. A small vase at her bedside, filled with flowers they had collected from the times they had took a walk through gardens on their afternoons off, along with a singular one that had nearly shed all of its petals; she recognised it as being from her little wedding bouquet. And there, above everything else at the head of the bed; her pillowcase had been taken off and been replaced with the one she had laid upon the night before, the one that was his own.

It still rested there, unchanged and untouched, now; well over a year since it had been placed into her possession. The diminishing scent barely noticeable to anyone but her, where it would remain entrenched and imprinted on her memory. She hugged it closer to her, buried her head into it to let it fill her up. A comfort. A consolation. A crush upon her aching heart.


	8. Chapter 8

_One night could be never-ending._

Anna knew this only too well.

In all the years she'd been there, she had experienced many of these elongated nights. Most reliably they would come twice a year, when the Granthams would hold particularly extravagant dinners, which then led onto parties in the main hall as the evening gave way to the darker hours. Why they persisted with the tradition she could never comprehend, as as far as she could tell none of them seemed to particularly enjoy the revelry, aside from Lady Cora. In fact whenever she encountered the Earl or the younger ladies as she was dashing around collecting empty trays or coats, she would denote very clearly the look of boredom, of discomfiture – particularly on the face of Lady Mary, as she contended with the company of dreadfully snooty suitors, just about resisting the urge to roll her eyes patently and unabashedly to the heavens, wishing to be anywhere else entirely.  _"We must indulge your mother;_   _allow her to be American every once in a while,"_  she would hear Lord Grantham say when one of the girls would whisper a complaint. It wasn't much fun for her either. Running to and fro, feet aching and head in a whirl, given something else to do when she thought the night was finally nearing its conclusion. Sitting for just a few seconds, she would estimate how many hours she would get to spend in bed that night, if indeed she ever reached it.

Then again, there were the nights when next to nothing occurred, the quiet seasons and times when there was not much fuss to make from anyone, not even Lady Cora. These nights came around more frequently than she had chosen to recall and they really did go on, ceaselessly. She would sit for minutes that seemed to be hours, whole lifetimes, racking her mind for something to do to occupy the time. Nothing would appear; at least, nothing that would keep her in her rightful place there, observing the harmonious, but quite dull, routine. She'd steal a glance over at him, if he was there, appearing engrossed as he assisted Mr Carson in polishing the silver, but knowing that the repetition was rendering him just as bored. Her eyes training themselves upon his actions, for what she knew was a little too long. Watching with cautious detail his fingertips sweeping across the glistening handles, holding them with such delicacy but such steadiness. Caressing the edges with the cloth before descending down, covering them completely, nimble fingers working slowly back and forth. Hypnotising. If she could spend the entire night with him, alone, elsewhere, then she'd want nothing more than to have it last forever. She'd never care to see the sunlight again, as long as he was there beside her. She didn't hear herself sigh heavily and was only aware when all eyes were suddenly upon her. Her face flustered.  _I think I'll go upstairs, if I may._ She may as well be in bed, even if she knew she wouldn't sleep any time soon. The night had taken its toll, consuming her in its draining hold. Before she left the hall she cast her eyes back to him, intent and focused, barely noticing her as she slipped silently away. These never-ending nights were the worst of all.

If only she could have known how much worse they would get.

Tossing and turning restlessly, she came to a sudden stop upon her side. There was a very tiny moment of epiphany, a realisation that made utter sense to her in the pitch black shadows. The space she found herself in was conflicted, completely. The room itself was as small as it ever had been, actually seeming to shrink by inches night after night as she remained there. Stifling; she would say  _claustrophobic_  if the word didn't have such painfully precise connotations. However, and she could never have imagined that this would have ever been the case in all the nights gone by that she had felt cramped and crammed in, the bed she lay in seemed to be far too big, all of a sudden. The emptiness of it swamped her, swallowed her up. No wonder she could no longer get any rest when she felt so stranded here. Somewhere along the line, sanctuary had turned to wilderness. Holding her body up with her elbow, she trailed her hand across the width of the bed, the sheets feeling starkly cool beneath her fingertips despite the fact she'd been laying within them for a long while. At once it was perplexing, and yet everything fell into place as her fingers continued their journey, seeking something they would never find.

_One night could change everything._

Before then, she was quite comfortable, if not always thoroughly contented, to lie there on her own, safe in the knowledge that sleep would find her eventually, wrap her in its embrace. There had been no other way, she had known no different. Afterwards, as she returned to the familiarity alone, still caught up in the moment, it was impossible to even try. The touch she had been used to eluded her, succeeded and overpowered as she had lain naked with other arms around her. Often when she was on the edge of slumber, she could feel them circled just above her waist; his fingers stroking softly, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck. The presence so steadfast, as if she had always known the feeling of him there so close to her, knew it with her mind before she had had the experience with her body. She would extend her fingers, reach out to touch his skin, feel the thud of his heart and the soft rise and fall of his sleeping breaths, roll over to see him there…it was all in her head.  _Had it only ever happened there?_ No, it was once real; every now and then, the flashes flooded her memory, bringing him back, bringing her back to life. She could see it all, feel it all once more, in bursts that left her body shuddering and her heart in a mess. At the time, she had wanted the night to last forever, knowing that after just one night the sweetness would have to be suspended; their bond severed, if only temporarily, until they were free to emerge from the shadows that bound them. The mere thought seemed unbearable to her then and she would have done anything in her power to stop the turning of time. Now, she would do anything to send it spiralling back. Reminiscence was not enough, not to last a lifetime. But what was there to do?

_One night would last forever._

At least, it would have to.

* * *

Anna stood in front of the little dressing table in her room, the heat of the sun still blazing through despite her having pulled over the curtains. It had been an absolutely glorious morning, the spring sunshine bathing the day in delight, and by all accounts it looked as though it was going to stay that way well into the afternoon. She felt her whole body, from head to toe, radiate with warmth. A particular tingling was apparent in her fingertips, and she also found that they had begun to dampen with a slight sweat. That must have been the reason why she was finding it so damn impossible to fasten this blouse. She'd now been trying to fasten the same button for a couple of minutes at least, and had had just as much trouble with the previous ones; at this rate, she was quite sure that she would be here all afternoon, grappling with a task that she'd carried out perfectly simply a million times before, for others more often than for herself. Her fingers fumbled as she attempted to secure the little pearl pin in place, and through her frustration she noticed that the hand lying atop the ivory cotton was shaking uncontrollably. A little startled, she covered it over with the fingers that were less than dexterous, and simultaneously felt her heart racing within her chest. Then, she let her arms fall effortlessly to her sides, shut her eyes and told herself to stop, take a deep breath. She inhaled, shakily at first, then calmed herself as she let it fill her, holding the breath at the bottom of her lungs before releasing it slowly through pursed, faintly cracked lips. Tranquillity for all of a second before the rush of excitement returned even stronger, a thousand more butterflies flapping their wings wildly against the walls of her stomach.

It was here finally;  _today was the day._  A part of her was sure she was dreaming all of this, that it couldn't possibly be real, and if she hadn't known otherwise she would be absolutely sure that was exactly the case. Except, to be dreaming so vividly, one had to be sleeping, and she hadn't managed to get a wink all night. As the day had begun to dawn, the thought occurred to her that she might not have the energy needed to see her through but she realised she needn't have worried; all morning long, it was as if she'd been walking on air. Of course, she had tried to sleep but it had never been a serious possibility. She got into bed the previous night feeling like a child on Christmas Eve, except with the sensations of anticipation and sheer giddiness multiplied. In truth, she had felt much the same way from the moment he told her that he had made the booking, given her the date -  _Friday afternoon, this Friday._ After so many years waiting, hoping at times it seemed beyond all hope, it really wouldn't be long at all. She couldn't quite believe it. Still she counted down the hours, the minutes as they seemed to drag by. Looking across at him as he went in and out of the hall, grinning as they passed each other upstairs, aching to clasp her hand openly in his as they all ate dinner. The night would descend and they would meet outside in the courtyard, or sit inside at the table if everyone else were in their rooms. Not for very long; it was as if they were saving themselves for the fated day, now that it was so very nearly here. They had made the promise not to see one another the night before; though it didn't really seem to mean that much, given all the time they had spent together after dark in the past years, they both felt it was appropriate to mark the occasion, and Anna had felt a flutter of exhilaration thrill through her when he had mentioned it. Afterwards, it would be entirely different, even if they still had to conduct themselves in secrecy for a little while longer. In her sleeplessness she had considered more than once reneging on it; wanted so much to creep downstairs and see him there, unable to stay away too, and envelop herself in his waiting embrace. She resisted temptation, would never know if he had stood there, similarly sleepless.

She glanced at the clock on the wall; just over an hour. A little more than sixty minutes to wait, and they would have declared their vows, the ring would be firmly on her finger. They would be married. She did up the final button on her blouse and the smile spread wide over her face.

If a part of her wasn't dreaming, then perhaps it had entered into a different reality. Ever since she had insisted that he go to Ripon to secure the wedding license and make the arrangements at the registry office, leaving him quite astounded but completely unsurprised by the force of her sentiments, she had been half-expecting every day for him to go back on his word, to let his common sense that was in fact nonsensical overpower him, praying with all her heart and soul that it wouldn't come to that but fearing that it was the inevitable course of action. Just days before she had confronted him with her proposition, he spoke to her in hushed tones as they braced the chill of the budding spring evening.

" _Even though neither of us want to, we must wait a while longer. If we marry now, it won't look good at all. It would possibly implicate you as well, and I could not saddle you with another burden."_

She knew too well that it wouldn't look good. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't oblivious to the gravity of the situation. But that was precisely why she felt it was imperative they go ahead as soon as was possible. She did not care what people had to say, what they dared to think. Let them speculate that she had somehow planned everything all along, if they really wanted to get carried away. She had not endured all the time that had passed, all the agony that had so very nearly broken her completely to be cast aside, told that she had no right to stand by him, to even be informed of his welfare if the worst should happen. The notion threatened at any time to eclipse the happiness that lay clear upon the horizon, and with each day that they waited it would appear larger and more looming above their heads. That they could come so very close and then to have everything snatched so cruelly from them at the very last moment…no, she could not and would not contemplate it.

" _They will come for me. It could be tomorrow, it could be in a year. But they will come."_

_She grasped his hand, clutched it to her chest. "That may be. But when they do, I will be your wife and I will be there to be beside you, to tell them and the whole world that they are wrong. They can't deny me that, and you can't either."_

She may have sounded a little frantic, but she knew by the smile on his face and in his eyes that he believed in her as fervently as she had always believed in him. She just hoped that that belief was still burning bright within him right now, had not been fought back by the doubts that at times defined his very being. For the smallest moment, she let herself think about the most unthinkable outcome of the day. That he would not be there when she arrived, that he would not come at all. Was there an even worse prospect? Yes: that they would choose today to strike, come to take him from her just before he said the words that were needed to unite them for eternity…

Anna shook herself from the waking nightmare. She would not let it intrude a second longer, not let anything dare ruin this perfect day. She smoothed her still clammy hands down her flowing skirt before ever so carefully positioning the hat upon her head. Crouching a little to look at herself in the mirror, her reflection met her eyes most strikingly. She wondered if when she gazed at it again later whether she would find any distinctive change. This would be the last time that she would see herself as Miss Anna Smith. The next time she looked upon herself here she would be  _Mrs Anna Bates._  Just hearing the words resonate in her head filled her with the most immense joy.

When she entered the hall, it was relatively unpopulated – only Mrs Patmore and Daisy stood, already preparing the evening's meal, and Miss O'Brien sat tucked away in a corner, eyelids drooping as she took a break from tending faithfully to Lady Grantham, having been all but marched to the spot by Lord Grantham himself. Aside from the rattling of pots and pans, the boiling of the kettle and the occasional reprimand aimed at Daisy to  _"for God's sake girl, watch what you're doing"_  by Mrs Patmore, it was quite quiet indeed. To stop herself from suddenly screaming out her euphoria, Anna made a measured enquiry to Miss O'Brien.

"How is her Ladyship doing this morning? I do hope better; we all had such a fright."

Miss O'Brien replied as she if were in a trance, not looking up. "Well, Dr Clarkson assures us that she's well past the worst and that she will be fine, but I can't say I hold his opinion in much regard. I still suspect that we should be vigilant. I think I shall go back up now." As she stood to leave, she took in the sight of Anna, and even in her weary, subdued state, could not pass up the opportunity to make a comment. "I must say, you're very dressed up for an afternoon walk in the village."

Anna felt Mrs Patmore and Daisy's heads swivel to meet her, and she willed herself to stop from colouring.

"It's not often I get the chance to give these clothes an airing, so I thought I may as well do so on a such a nice day," she quickly recovered herself, hoping she was convincing enough.

A small voice came from behind her. "I think you look really lovely, Anna."

"Why thank you, Daisy."

She turned to see Daisy smiling sincerely at her, and returned the gesture warmly. Whenever she saw Daisy smile nowadays, she never failed to detect a sadness lying under the surface, the hint differing each time but always there. It upset her that such a young girl should be marked with such a deep sorrow, carry such a weight upon her. She thought of the day that Daisy became a wife, for the briefest of time; the melancholy that was in her eyes then, the self-conscious way she held herself in front of all of them, holding William's frail hand in her own with profound friendship, if not exactly love. Anna remembered the tears that were in her eyes watching them, the tears that she had for dear, sweet William and the plight that never should have befallen him but also for Daisy, for how hopeless she seemed. She wondered if Daisy would ever marry again. She hoped very much she would, that she would find someone whom she truly loved and who loved her in the future. She feared that her less than happy first experience might have deterred her completely.

Then she thought of Miss Lavinia Swire, so mercilessly taken from life just hours ago. How such a healthy, vibrant young lady could have been claimed so quickly was incomprehensible, and so very, very sad. And on the cusp of her wedding day, the day that would have been the happiest of her life; as it unfortunately came to be, a day that was ill-fated. She was the picture of innocence, an ideal blushing bride, beaming as she would walk down the aisle. But now, she would never get the chance. Guilt overwhelmed Anna. That she should be revelling in the joy that was awaiting her while such a gloom had been cast over the house; that she had been afforded the chance to marry, furtively and unannounced, but doing so blissfully, knowing that it would be done for all the right reasons. She knew it was a silly notion as soon as it entered her head, but it seemed that the weddings that had been planned and taken place there recently had been cursed from their beginnings; in poor Miss Swire's case, before they'd had the chance to begin. Was it right that they should marry under such an ominous cloud? It seemed to be tempting fate awfully.

_Of course it was right. Of course._  Those situations were miles away from their own; they were happy, despite all the odds saying that they shouldn't be. If such a thing as a curse existed, then they would be the ones strong enough to break it with their love, as true and special as it was.

"Well, I shall be off now. I should be back by early evening, if not sooner. Have a good afternoon."

Walking out of the door, her heart pounded harder with every step she took. When she came back, she would be changed. She would be a married woman.

* * *

Here she was. On the other side of the day, in a room on the other side of the house, worlds away from everyone else. She'd only ever spent about fifteen minutes at most at a time in here; now she would be spending the whole night there. It had been hours since she had prepared herself carefully, dressed in her best, yet the very same heady mix of emotions as she had felt then were still coursing through her, more intensely at this very second than at any other point during the day. By all means, she should have been absolutely exhausted, ready to lay her head down and drift off into dreams, but she had never been more awake, enlivened in every sense by all that had happened and everything that lay in wait. Even if she had the inclination, she wasn't sure how any dream, as enchanting as they may be, could possibly live up to the reality she found herself finally in. Sitting upon the edge of the sumptuous silk-clothed bed, she gazed down at the ring that was once more attached to the finger on her left hand. She tried to take it all in.

Overjoyed. That's how she had felt from the very moment she arrived in Ripon, the moment she took sight of him waiting for her outside the registry office, the moment they walked arm-in-arm inside and towards their destiny. The happiness that rose within her as they both pledged their vows reaching its peak as they were pronounced husband and wife; one minute changing everything, yet only affirming all that already was. As she beamed up at him then, she knew she was radiating it with every ounce of her being. The love that she was now composed of completely, the love that she felt deeper and stronger and more perfectly than ever. Without a doubt it had been the best moment of her life, the moment everything she had ever said and done had been leading up to. Even with all her prior assurances, she knew he had been anxious that the ceremony would not live up to what she had expected, what she had deserved so much; the ideal wedding day that every young woman dreamed of, standing at the altar of the church, in an exquisite dress, surrounded by the people who meant the most to her. She hadn't really given it much thought, aside from flights of fancy as a little girl, and more recently as the real chance to consider it came into her hands. But as it was, it was ideal; she could not have asked for more. It would have been amazing to her wherever they were, however she looked – even if she was in her black dress and apron. Though she wanted to gladly exclaim it to the world, for just the two of them to know was all that was needed. The right man had made the right wedding, and had done so so wonderfully.

After spending some time walking in the village, revelling in their elation, they reluctantly had to return and carry on as if it were a normal day, just the same as any other. Anna did all she could to compose herself throughout the early evening, dampening the fires. She tried not to look at him for any longer than mere seconds, knowing that the embers would reignite, sparks flying from her instantly. She had just about managed to come back down to earth as she entered Lady Mary's room to dress her for the evening. The 'gift' she had presented sent her soaring once again into the stratosphere. More than surprised; she was stunned, astonished, totally lost for words.  _A wedding night._ Of course she had pictured it in her head many times, fantasised about what it would be like when they could finally experience and enjoy it – and she was certain they would, very much - but she had certainly not expected that it would happen tonight, had resigned herself to waiting just a little longer. It was just as she had said to Lady Mary – it was not as if she had not enough practise at being patient. The delightful disbelief resonated through her as she ushered him outside for a mere minute or two, told him in soft low tones about the surprise, deliberately choosing not to reveal too much but making sure the necessary details were unmistakeably clear. Her stomach did somersaults as she observed how his eyes changed, the realisation unfolding.

She clasped her hands together, covering the golden glint of the band, and shifted where she sat. Anticipation. Exhilaration. Deep apprehension. How long had she spent counting down to this time, imagining it seemed every waking moment of how it would go…of course, she wanted it to happen – the burning that had started in her heart and in other parts of her was testament to just how much – but now that it was here, the possibility so close it was almost visible in the air, she felt something in her hesitate. The nervous energy was hastening over her, overwhelming her; she felt at any minute that she may simply disappear. On legs that were shuddering slightly, she made to stand, upright only seconds before she sat back down. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. Her fingers toyed with the strands of hair that were resting upon one shoulder. The predominant thought in her head right now concerned it. Should she let it loose or leave it pinned up? He had never seen her with her hair down before. Would it be expecting too much, too soon; make her look alluring in quite a purposeful manner? She had put it back into a loose braid, and her fingers played questioningly upon the fastening before she pulled them back to her lap. She stood once more, turning around in the spot she was in. This room was so grand, so splendid. She wanted to explore it, felt like she should absorb every detail, commit it carefully to her memory. Her hand swept daintily over the bedcover as her mind still refused to settle. She'd been here an awfully long time. He was probably still occupied with Lord Grantham. Perhaps he was in his own room, preparing himself. Perhaps he'd had second thoughts about the night…

A tapping at the door dismissed her doubts. Her heart jumped up into her throat. After a minute he let himself in, closing the door soundlessly behind him. He was still in his work clothes, aside from his jacket, collar and tie. He stood with his hand on the doorknob and his back resting against the wood, smirking softly towards her. At once, the indecision left and she found her natural course, gravitating towards where he was.

"I was beginning to wonder whether you'd gone to the wrong room."

"I'll let you know I spent a long while counting. Several times."

They both began laughing as he walked into the centre of the room, standing before her. She placed her palms upon his chest as he pulled her gently towards him.

"I had to be sure," he chortled, as his hands began to play at the small of her back. He exhaled a breath he was holding as he brought one of them up to softly stroke her cheek. "Good evening, Mrs Bates." It sounded even sweeter as it came from his lips, and she smiled to hear it. His hand drifted back to rest upon the bone of her hip. "I have been waiting all night to say that to you."

She circled her hands around the back of his neck, unable to tear herself away from the depth of his gaze. "I shall never tire of hearing it. Your name is the most valuable thing I could ever own."

His eyes melted with her words and he bent his head down to meet her own, kissing her tenderly, only the second kiss they had shared as husband and wife. They stayed connected after their lips separated, arms around one another, breathing one another in. After a little while, their grip upon each other loosened and their arms untangled, knowing they had the luxury of the entire night to resume their embraces. Anna turned back into the room, walking around a little aimlessly now she was away from her anchor.

"Isn't this all so lovely?" she said as she sat down on the bed, stroking the petals of the flowers that had been placed there between her fingertips while glancing around. "I can't quite believe it, that we should be here. It's just…just lovely."

He regarded her with adoration as he moved to sit beside her, every bit of him charmed by her as she appeared in such wonder, exuding an innate splendour all of her own.

"It's certainly very nice, but I can't confess that I've really taken much notice. The only thing I can see in any room you're ever in is you. The loveliest sight I will ever have the pleasure to gaze upon."

She felt the blush burn in her cheeks as he settled beside her, and it took her a while to find his eyes again. When she did, she was held captive once more.

"I didn't believe you could look more beautiful than you did this afternoon, but I have been proved wrong once again."

His fingers brushed almost imperceptibly against the lace edging of the nightgown she was wearing, and a shiver shot instantly across her. She tried to find the words to respond, and when none came tried to call her body into action instead. It was of no use; she had been rendered completely speechless and immobile. Even if she had been able to say or do something, she was sure it wouldn't have been anywhere near adequate to express all that was currently surging within her.

His voice sounded again, so close to her ear. "Today has confirmed what I have known for so long. That I am the luckiest man on this earth."

Her heart fluttered in her chest and she nodded. Words flowed into her mouth from her heart.

"And I am lucky too; so very, very lucky to be your wife."

He had not failed to notice her distracted air, the way her hands were dancing all around her in her lap and upon the bed, restlessly.

"It's perfectly natural for you to feel anxious," he started reassuringly. "You don't have to be afraid; we needn't do anything. I will be more than happy to simply lie next to you all night; being able to do that, to stay here with you, will be a privilege in itself." His eyes shone with honest sentiment, and she could have burst with love for him.

"I'm not afraid, it's not that exactly," she began, fingers fumbling with one another before she stilled them. That was true; she could hardly be afraid with him, at any time. "I'd be worried if I didn't feel this way. Once it quells itself a little, I shall be fine." She looked straight at him, her soul bared completely, and found her shyness fading fast away with the sincere gaze he returned to her. A hand stretched to stroke her arm softly.

"Take as long as you need, we have all the time in the world."

The thought flashed into her mind of when they had come closest before, their heated encounter in the kitchen where she had sat astride him as their building passion had been unleashed in a fit. All of the yearning; the want, the need she had felt then came rushing back to fill her senses. She grabbed his hand as it had drifted slowly down to hover by her wrist.

"Who knows when we will get the chance again." She breathed out the words. "I want to know what it is to be your wife completely…John."

On hearing her call him by his first name, his irises darkened with desire but his touch remained tender, as he gently squeezed her hand in his own, before relinquishing the grip, reaching up to caress her cheek, her neck, the space just above her shoulder. His fingers began to sweep softly across her glistening blonde hair and then with a swift, careful movement he pulled away the ribbon that secured it, letting it cascade down, tangling his hand in its silk. It seemed to hold him mesmerised. After a little while, his fingertips drifted to the down at the nape of her neck and stroked nimbly back and forth. Anna closed her eyes to revel in the simple but enthralling sensation and then felt his lips brushing against the side of her face. The soft whispers set the skin of her whole body tingling, but she was impatient for more. She didn't have long to wait until his lips were fully upon hers, kissing her slowly and sensually. She sighed into his mouth as the kiss deepened and the tips of his fingers roamed further across the back of her neck. Her own hand travelled down his other arm that was resting upon the bed. As it reached his wrist, she could feel the nerves there trembling despite themselves. In being caught up in her own anxiety, she'd underestimated how momentous this night was for him too. She very softly lay her hand over his on top of the sheet, her fingers issuing soothing caresses. He moved his own against them and pulled away to look into her face, eyes full of love. She smiled back at him as his thumb rubbed across her cheek, running down to cup her chin before he kissed her deeply once more, conveying completely the emotion his gaze held.

Leaving her mouth, his lips then began to trail steadily downwards, laying soft kisses below her ear, the curve of her jaw. He was absolutely reverent in his journey, every kiss wholly attentive. As his lips began to travel to her neck, they became more focused, increasingly passionate. He hit upon a spot that she had no idea was so sensitive, and she heard herself gasp audibly. Terrified that he'd done something to scare her, his head craned upward.

"Anna, if you want me to stop at any point, all you need to do is say so…"

"No," she implored, hands coming up to stroke his face. "I don't want you to stop. Please."

Reassured, he continued where he had left off, fervently and delicately showering kisses across her neck, her collarbone; his fingers drifting up and down her sides as he did so. The combination of his hands and lips upon her sent jolts running in every direction, and she felt a tightening in the base of her stomach. As he kept on, she tore his waistcoat from him, her fingers fumbling frantically with the buttons of his shirt. She slowly slid a hand between the ones she had prised open, her fingertips immediately coming into contact with the soft, dark hair of his chest. Thrills danced within her at the intimate touch; she was completely entranced. One of his hands brushed across the top of her thigh as the other stroked her shoulder through the delicate fabric of the nightgown. His lips closed the space around it, and carefully he pulled down, exposing a patch of bare skin to the air. Fingertips playing tantalisingly there, before the kisses came. She bit her lip; it took everything she had not to cry out at the sensations. She threw the shirt from his own shoulders, running her hands across their broad expanse. Pulling herself reluctantly away from where his lips lay upon her, she leaned back to take the sight of him in, half unclothed. She had seen a man in this state of undress before, but never in  _this_  way and she found herself fascinated, especially as it was him. Her eyes raked hungrily across his bare chest. His fingers were drawing little circles on her thigh, on top of her gown, and she was suddenly very distracted. She raised her eyes to his and saw them questioning, seeking assurance for the next step. She nodded acceptance, and both of his hands braced the hem, rising up and slowly lifting the nightgown from her body. As he removed it, along with her undergarments, his fingertips brushed above her hips, up her sides, the curve of her breasts. Her head instinctively fell back a little; she felt on fire with his touch. His fingers swept delicately up and down her naked spine and his lips drifted softly onto hers as she fell back onto the bed, and let it happen.

His hands roamed over the length of her body; then, hands were replaced by lips, leaving no place untouched. It was a revelation to Anna, in many ways, and marvellous in every one of them. To be touched for the first time so attentively and by him; she'd never imagined anyone else and she never would. To experience this so wonderfully…it was as if she'd been sent straight to heaven. In a sense, she felt almost as if she had been taken out of herself, had escaped from her body and was watching from afar. Yet at the same time it was all so powerful within her that she was sure this was the very moment she was really aware of being alive. Sounds she had never made before escaping her lips; sensations she didn't know she was capable of feeling rushing through her body, as it moved in perfect harmony with his. Pleasure, newly discovered, at her core; love, in its purest form, making itself known stronger than ever as she shuddered upon the sheets, whispering his name.

Anna lay in the dark, wide awake. She had dozed a little while, wrapped safe and serene in his arms. It hadn't been for that long, yet she was quite sure it had been the best, most restful sleep she had ever had in her entire life. But she didn't want to sleep. How could she possibly do so when she could feel him there, laying beside her? If it was up to her, they would spend the rest of eternity in this way, simply lying with each other…sometimes doing much more. A smirk spread across her face as she thought of all that had occurred that night, how they truly were husband and wife now, and she sighed contentedly. As it was, she didn't know when this would happen again and she was determined to savour every second of the time they had left to be together, in the way that they should be. She wasn't going to waste it sleeping, and she didn't think he should either. She felt the warm breaths playing against her neck and smiled to sense the hand that was resting protectively on her hip.

Rolling onto her other side to face him, she gazed lovingly at his sleeping form. It felt a little unfair to wake him when he looked so peaceful, but her mischief won over her empathy. She ran a hand softly up his arm, fingers teasing. After initial tentativeness, it had taken not long at all for them to be absolutely at ease with one another and now it was as if she had known the outlines of his body her entire life. The second time they had made love that night was more passionate, and she had become bolder in her touches, exploring his body in the way he had hers. Her hand travelled further over above his forearm, and swerved to run across his chest hair. He stirred, eyes flickering open sleepily, and she couldn't hold back her giggles.

"I'm sorry," she said as her fingertips ran circles on his chest.

"I don't know if I quite believe you," he replied, his voice gruff with sleep. Anna's eyes lit up as he began to stroke his own hand against her shoulder, indicating that he was more forgiving than she would be if her slumber had been so rudely interrupted. "I don't think I was sleeping that deeply. But I would have thought you would have wanted the rest," his hand tangled into her hair; he couldn't keep away from it as it lay tumbled around her shoulders. "As much as I may want to, I'm not as young as I used to be." His eyebrows raised slightly as he finished his statement.

"Cheeky beggar," she swatted him gently on the arm as she began to giggle again. "Although, it has took seven years; I think that gives me some entitlement."

He raised himself onto his elbow and kissed her quickly on the lips, encouraged by her cheekiness. "I can't argue with that. I just hope it was worth the wait."

"Very much so." She smiled widely as fragments of the night flashed into her mind, one by one. "It's written plain upon my face, I'm sure; I'm afraid I shall give myself away terribly tomorrow. And I don't know how I shall be able to keep myself together, sitting next to you, watching you work…" She thought of him carrying out those mundane tasks that he had always made so enthralling to her eyes; they would be even more difficult to deal with now she knew exactly where else his hands had been, what they could do…

"I don't think it will be easy for me either," his hand drifted lazily to rest at the nape of her neck. "Perhaps the best course of action to take will be for us to try and put some distance between each other, at least a little bit."

She felt her heart sink at the suggestion; it was going to be bad enough tearing herself away from this bed, from him, in the morning. "Oh, surely it won't come to that. I mean, I rather like that this is our secret for now. It's nice to think we can have the time to take it in, to enjoy it, just us. But at the same time, I can't wait until we can be open about it, I feel like we've hidden enough. I want to let the whole world know that I am your wife." She looked down at her left hand. "I hate the fact that I have to take my ring off every morning, pretend that I'm just as I used to be. I long for the day when I can leave it where it should be, forever."

He stroked the space between her shoulders, and she felt herself become soothed at his reassuring touch alone. "I understand, and I feel that way too. But it won't be long, I promise."

She'd heard those words so many times before, and part of her wondered how long not long would be. Another part of her felt instantly guilty; how could she possibly complain when they'd had this,  _just one night_  but one that she hadn't expected to have yet, one which was perfect in every sense.

"And we will still know otherwise, know that forever has begun, even if others can't see it." One of his hands reached round to touch her face so gently, and she felt herself still and strike up. "I see forever right now, with you here."

Now she couldn't stop herself from springing forward and catching his lips with hers. They both lay back down, her head nestling under his shoulder, his arm curling round her with his hand placed on top of hers upon the bed, his fingers stroking over hers gently.  _Forever_. They talked at length of how it would be; their little cottage, what the colour of the curtains and bedsheets would be, which flowers they'd plant in the garden. Where exactly the hotel they would eventually own would be – Anna longed for it to be by the sea. How many children they would have, and whether they would be boys or girls – John wishing for a dozen daughters, all perfect little replicas of her. Laying there in his embrace, she'd never felt such peace. She lay a kiss in the crook of his arm as she grudgingly closed her eyes once more.

One night had been the start of forever.


	9. Chapter 9

It came over her very suddenly; the most peculiar feeling. One minute she was sitting there, quite untroubled and doing everything as usual, the next she was completely overcome. It was as if she had been struck by a sharp blow, the force potent and engulfing her all at once. A weight clamped and crushed her chest; at the same time, her head felt incredibly light. Despite the searing heat that was emanating through from the kitchen, she perceived the blood running bitterly cold in her veins. Calmly and quietly, she made her way to the back door, her swift exit going largely unobserved.

Leaning against the wall, she made a concerted effort to compose herself. She knew he had joined her outside, yet she still jumped slightly when he touched his hand lightly to her back.

"Is everything alright?"

Anna exhaled the breath she had been holding, and turned towards him.

"I had a bit of a turn. It took me quite by surprise."

Even with the fresh air she was still considerably disorientated, the aftershocks surging throughout her. She focused upon his face, which while furrowed with obvious concern for her wellbeing, was still set strong and sure. The blind panic that she had been put into began to dissipate.

"Are you recovered? Do you want me to say something to Mrs Hughes? If you're ill, then you should go upstairs to rest."

Despite everything, she wanted to grin and giggle at all of his fussing. If it was anyone else, she would have started to get annoyed by now, but she felt a deep flush of affection.

"No, it's fine. I'm not quite back to normal just yet, but I will be, given a few more minutes. There's no cause for alarm, honestly."

"If you say so." The anxious look remaining in his eyes told that he wasn't completely reassured. As she sat down on one of the crates, she saw it move towards something more familiar from him; the definite and heavy hint of culpability, laying the blame for all misfortune mistakenly upon himself. The words that came from him as he took his place next to her confirmed it.

"This has probably come about because you're overtired. I shouldn't have let you stay up so late last night." He looked distinctly sheepish as he regarded her, almost like an adolescent waiting to be reprimanded. She couldn't help from smiling.

"I'm not sure," she said, smoothing the faint creases from his left trouser leg and trailing off, finding herself a little preoccupied all of a sudden. "I don't think I got any less sleep than I've often been used to." He gave her a look that suggested that she should give recourse to reconsidering her sleeping pattern, and now she felt like the one being admonished. "I really don't know what it was. I can't say I've encountered the feeling before, so it seems rather fruitless searching for explanations." She looked back towards the hall, shoulders shrugging. "Perhaps it's just the prospect of tomorrow. The thought of poor Miss Swire being laid to rest."

He followed her gaze with his own, which had turned wistful on the mention of the occasion that was looming. "Perhaps. I daresay everyone is feeling more than a little unsettled. They're never easy things to deal with, but when it should be for someone so young, so blameless. It is awfully unjust. But, then again, it makes you think: how just is the world, really? It hardly seems that it is, at all, and such things remind us of it."

"Yes." Anna felt a resurge within her, more than a little disconcerted at his tone, but finding something appropriate, if not wholly accurate, in his statements. It wasn't just, not at all. She'd had the good fortune not to have attended many funerals in her life; indeed, all of the ones she could remember being at had taken place in Downton. They were always sombre, of course, but she had never known such melancholy to descend all around prior to the regrettable event. The whole house had been thrown into an abject mourning, desolation filling every room, every corner, even teeming out from the tiny cracks in the brickwork. It was hard to avoid being affected by it. Just the other day, she had encountered it most poignantly with her own eyes as she had been helping to redress the main staircase, unpinning the garlands that had been hung days before to mark the upcoming wedding. Mr Crawley standing alone, gazing briefly around before letting his eyes fall to the floor, dazed and dejected. He looked so small and lost in the grand hall, the place that he had been to so often it may have well been his home, and indeed would be one day. Though she didn't know for sure, she was certain his heart was aching with grief, and perhaps even a touch of guilt, for his departed fiancée, and hers went out to him as he stood there, having been set stranded.

She felt his fingers close around hers upon her lap. "Still, we shouldn't hold too much sorrow. After tomorrow, Miss Swire will be at peace forever. I'm sure all the preparations will make for a very fitting service."

Looking up from where their entwined hands lay to the eyes that were bearing down upon her, she smiled. "I'm sure it will be lovely, even though that isn't quite the right thing to say, I know." Thinking on the sadness of the situation, as well as ruminating a little still on the unusual feeling that had overwhelmed her, she let out a sigh. "I'll just be glad when the day is over."

"I think we all shall be. Though I'm sure we won't be allowed respite for long."

"Not in this house." She laughed softly as she rose from her seat. "Speaking of which, I'd better be getting back; we both had. The dressing gong will be rung soon, and God forbid that Mr Carson shouldn't find us ready to jump into action when it goes."

Placing his weight upon his cane as he stood, his eyes shadowed with worry again. "Are you sure you don't need a little longer?"

"I'm sure." She quickly squeezed his hand in hers, and then ran it down the length of his arm to combat his fears. "It seems to have passed now, and sitting here fretting about what it could have been won't do any good. Come on, let's go."

Her arm circled his for the seconds before they entered the house again. Once all their duties had been done and their own meal finished, his hand had rested upon her knee underneath the table of the servants' hall, and stayed there all night, until they both retired to their respective rooms. She smiled to herself to think of his unwavering attentiveness, and only wished that she could have led him by the same hand down the hallway, up the stairs and into her room, seeing as she was there alone for the time being.

It proved to be no safe haven. She woke with a start in the dark of the night, the very same sensation returning with a vengeance to pervade every part of her; this time stronger, intensified, inescapable. Finding it impossible to even consider going back to sleep while this dread persisted within her, Anna paced back and forth across the room, wringing her hands anxiously and reflexively. What if she was ill? She hadn't been lying awake, hadn't been pondering Miss Swire or the funeral in her sleep. From what she knew, the Spanish flu came on very suddenly. They'd all been advised to be wary; there was a high probability that those that had been affected were still infectious, and the virus was likely to be even worse given that it had had the chance to mutate. But it had only been a burst that she'd experienced; she'd been perfectly fine all evening, up until now. Her instinct was to leave, walk down the hallway a few times – if he was not already up, perhaps her being out of her room and on the landing would somehow be enough to coax him out. Right at this very moment, she needed him there to assuage the fright and frenzy charging through her, the simple reassurance offered by his presence the only thing on the earth she could think of to quiet her.

She stopped on the spot, questioning whether to go and seek him. What a state she had got herself into; it wasn't healthy to always depend on another person at the slightest scare. She would stay where she was, wouldn't bother him when there was no need. It was unfair and unreasonable to let him be roused from his slumber simply to console her, and whatever she did, she couldn't make him appear if he was not already there, couldn't expect him to be aware of every minute change in her mood. Besides, she had taken up enough of the hours that should have been his own; they had spent the previous night sitting up, wanting to be together and reluctant to cut the ties of their new intimacy just yet, even if they didn't do anything more than share a few tender kisses, as well as all of their thoughts, in the midnight dusk. Getting back into bed, she reasoned with herself. She could go a few hours without the comfort of his touch, the calm that came from seeing his face and hearing his voice speak her name. There was no need whatsoever to cause a fuss. The night would be over soon enough; the day would dawn and after the worst of it was over, they'd be able to sit with one another once more and she'd be able to tell it all to him then, about how very silly she was. She could picture it now; him shaking his head and then unable to resist laughing as she did so, before his lips met hers softly to well and truly banish all of her existing and unbidden fears alike. The thought soothed her back to sleep, and she only awoke again when the morning came. Only then did she emerge, the faintest traces of the feeling that had plagued her during the night lying under the surface, but otherwise she was ready to face the day.

The next time she found herself there, much later on that same day, it had subsided, along with every other feeling that had rushed through her in the course of hours, minutes, mere seconds. Numb. She was completely numb now. She had felt that way since she had come to realise that she was really standing there, watching him being led away, watching his figure disappear into the distance, watching the empty space for moments afterwards, unable to believe what was happening in front of her eyes but being instantly struck by the pain that told her without doubt that it had; the thing that she knew deep within her would eventually come to be, but that she had hoped all her most fervent wishing and willing would cease. Of course, she was aware that she was fooling herself to even dare to think that it could ever be prevented, but for it to happen so soon afterwards, and on this very day. Even if she had had years, been given a precise date somewhere in the distant future, she would never have been able to prepare herself in time, react in the way that he needed her to. In reality, she had been so inadequate. Every emotion imaginable had come to life within her upon the second she had seen the two policemen waiting in the hall; it was perhaps no wonder that she should feel so drained of it now. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, ways in which she could react, but when it came to taking action, everything had failed her. It was not because the whole of downstairs were at their back, watching it all unfold, but because she couldn't see what she could do to turn it around, turn back time. In that very moment, she didn't know what was worse; knowing that nothing she could do would stop what was happening, or knowing beforehand, before everyone else was aware, that it was going to. As much as she was shocked to the very core, almost paralysed by seeing her husband shackled and wrongly charged with murder, something had been confirmed and compounded.  _That feeling._ It seeped and sunk into her gut as she stood helpless, stranded, plunged into despair. There were a few seconds of space between Mr Carson turning to face her and everyone else following his gaze. Even though she knew they were all watching her closely, she did not register their stares, saw past them all. She remained locked inside her head, in a world of her own whilst still occupying the world of the house.  _Just get through this night, that's all you need to do._  She got on with her work, keeping focused and retaining a quiet air of defiance. She was not fazed, had no need to be ashamed. Her husband was completely innocent; there had just been a terrible mistake and it would all be resolved quickly, in a matter of days. She was strong and sure.

That was, until the time had come for her to return to her room for the night. Then the barriers she had put up collapsed, and so had she too, dissolving into tears onto her bed. Despair came to claim her once more, holding her tighter in its clutches than ever before. Though it was impossible, she wished so much she could turn back time. She berated herself for pursuing that line of thought the previous evening, for not running in the early hours towards him and acting without hesitation on all of her strongest instincts. She had thought it wouldn't matter, that they would have forever to share everything, as they had done so many nights before. Would they ever do so again? She had told herself all night that they would, but that had been a preservation, a beacon of light to see her through. It was all very different now. As she lay in the pitch dark, she thought of him doing the same somewhere, in a cramped room with barely space to breathe, to think. Alone. Chains around his wrists, torment in his head. Cursing himself repeatedly, not for his own plight but for all that he had brought upon her. She cursed herself too, over and over and over. It was somewhat strange that they should be at such a distance, so far apart in body but not at all in mind. Would he know it all, know how much she wanted it back, the chance to let him know as clearly as she possibly could how much she loved him and how she would always be there, no matter what was to come? She hoped to God he did. The last words she said to him echoed in her head. She had wanted to say more, felt that there were a million words she could have spoken instead, but the vows that bound them spoke volumes. She had not cared that she had revealed their union to everyone in a rather unconventional manner; he needed to know before he was taken from her the words that were always true, but much more so now.  _I love you; for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse._ As she sobbed herself fitfully into sleep and thought of him, she mouthed them again and again.  _For better, for worse._  She knew the latter to still be a possibility, as incomprehensible as it seemed, but instead prayed for the former to come, and do so soon, because she did not know how many nights she could get through without him there.

* * *

She knew that a shadow had been cast over her. She could not escape from it, felt it around her permanently from the earliest light of day to the darkening of the night. It encased her, cut her off from the other servants as she walked in and out of the hall; this impenetrable aura of sorrow and anguish. In some respect, it was quite useful, acting as a shield from the pitying glances and the whispers of what it would all come to, what would become of him – and her. Then she didn't mind the distance. But she knew it was becoming a hazard to her as it grew a little more with each passing day, enlarging and encompassing her. It cloaked her most heavily as she returned to Downton that evening, plodding wearily down the hallway, every step an almighty effort. She had been back almost an hour, of which she had spent the best part of in Lord Grantham's study, him having summoned her there shortly after her arrival back. She tried her utmost to relay everything she could; not to let her eyes, which felt like lead, fall closed in front of him. Eventually he had noticed how tired she was, and sent her, with his apologies for keeping her and best wishes for a restful night, back to the hall. As she raked her spoon over the bowl of stew, hating how the meat rested heavy on her stomach, weighing her down even more, Mrs Hughes sat across from her, watching guard.

"Anna, you must be utterly exhausted, not just with the journey, but with the whole day itself. Finish as much as you can, and then go to bed. The ladies won't need anything doing, and if they do, Miss O'Brien can see to them."

Not seeing anyone else at the edge of her vision, she nodded, and within minutes was walking up the stairs and into her room, which was still just her own. She undressed in a matter of seconds and climbed under the covers without haste, wrapping them tight around every inch of her, wanting them to close everything out. She was absolutely freezing. The biting chill of the place had got into her skin and bones, immersed her immediately the moment she'd set foot in there. She had carried it back with her here; no matter how she covered herself, it wouldn't leave. If it was affecting her this badly and she'd only been there for not long at all, how much worse would it be for him? She worried; it couldn't have been good for him at all, the permanent cold coming from every pore. How his leg would throb with pain and weaken. She felt a slight twinge in her own. Everything pervaded in her senses; the damp darkness that covered the walls, the stench that turned the stomach, the cries and wails coming from cells left, right and centre, echoing through the corridors. She'd had to close her eyes against it all at the time, but now it kept her wide awake. Everything mixed and swam around in her head and she was repulsed, sickened, but most of all, deeply saddened.

It wouldn't have been quite right to say that she was looking forward to the first visit, but the longing she had to see him far outweighed any trepidation she had about entering a prison. It was only a building; it was who was within it that really mattered, and she would have gone anywhere to see him. Knowing that she would get the chance to do so, for whatever little time, sustained her throughout long days. When she finally had laid eyes on him, her heart shuddered and sank to the floor. Sorrow washed over her anew as she recalled the freshly-made memory. How much he'd changed in such a short space of time, in appearance, but more dramatically, in spirit. The way he limped slowly and heavily towards the table where she sat said everything; already, he was falling apart, becoming broken. When he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, his eyes met hers only at intervals. What she was able to glimpse within them left her torn apart too. So much resignation, so much despair that'd he become caught in, was giving into already. The man who had glowed with the hope of their future just weeks ago now with his light extinguished, smothered by the grey gloom that surrounded him. As she'd reached across to clasp a shaking hand, to instil some of her own faltering hope within him, an almighty noise started from the other side of the room, a fight having broken out. The way he remained unflinching as it escalated said that it was a regular occurrence. Her heart beat wildly as she was ushered out, away from him and the ensuing riot. God, what if he was the next target? She hoped he would be safe, but how could she ever know? Perhaps it was already too late…

The candle standing by her bedside flickered and something shifted. From somewhere, a surge of strength came; a resolve began to stir. He would not have to contend with it all much longer; would not have to deal with the cold, the chaos, the fear that was all around and also building within him, hour by hour. She would not have to be wracked with worry every second of every night and day, fearing about the turn of events, the turn of his thoughts. Very soon, within weeks, if not days, something would come to light, something that would prove his innocence to the rest of the world. She would make sure of it, if nobody else would. There would be no need for her to go back there, and no need for him waste any more time wishing to be elsewhere. The day would come, soon, and he would be back where he belonged; at Downton, at her side.

Days flowed into weeks, weeks into months. She stayed awake on the nights when she would return back from another long journey, the same tumultuous emotions remaining with her afterwards. Yet alongside them, it always burned bright: the light that was waiting in reach at the end of the tunnel, the determination that she would not dare let up. She would say the same thing to him every time before she had to leave:  _"The truth will come out. This will only make us stronger."_  Each time she uttered the words, she fostered them further within her. It was true; everything they'd had to contend with before hadn't broken them, had only served to deepen their bond and their love. This was a test, for sure, but they had always won before, and they would win again. She knew sometimes he doubted it, and if she admitted it to herself at times she did too. But she would keep believing, keep fighting for them both. Then, she'd say a little more.  _"I will never give up, not ever."_ She never would.  _"I love you."_  She always would.

* * *

"Christmas Eve tomorrow. Where does the time go?" Lady Mary sighed as she regarded herself in the mirror, contemplating the strange swiftness that seemed to accompany each passing year. "If only it could skip certain days entirely. Madness is bound to ensue."

Anna took the remaining pins from Lady Mary's hair, placing each one carefully on the dressing table, and reached for the hairbrush that lay there. "Will Sir Richard be arriving in the morning?"

"I doubt that early. The evening is probably a better bet; he won't want to tear himself away from his work a minute before he has to. He just about bears being here at any time, but he won't have bargained on Downton at Christmas. I know he will simply hate it. Which, unfortunately, makes me think I shall too."

As Lady Mary continued to complain about the upcoming festivities, Anna found herself tuning out. She did try to hold her attention, but it had the tendency to drift away inexplicably rapidly, especially of late. Neither did the season hold any remnants of joy for her, which was unfortunate, as she had always adored Christmastime; had loved to behold the gigantic tree being set within the main hall, excitement flowing through her as everyone began looking forward to the big day. This year, its appearance pointed towards another countdown entirely. Unlike Lady Mary, she was very much aware of the date. The time was ticking down, the days passing fast, coming ever closer to the one which would decide whether it would go on or stop forever. She could only think of it in those incredibly narrow but simultaneously significant terms, ignoring the holiday entirely. Anything past the very near future obscured into oblivion. The recent past took up all the space instead, the days that had just gone by turning over and replaying constantly in her head. Them filled up with him, the way he had looked. The things he had said. They wouldn't stop going round and round. She wanted to block it all out, and yet still keep it vivid enough to reach out and touch. These fragments were all she had to hold onto, and she was already beginning to feel them slip. Words revolved in a spiral, from the past, the present. She became suddenly aware of a silence, though she had no idea how long it had persisted or what had preceded it.

"Yes, m'lady," she uttered while absentmindedly brushing out Lady Mary's hair, not having a clue to which statement she was assenting to. She noticed Lady Mary's eyes lifting towards hers. She found she couldn't hold the gaze for long, even in the glass of the mirror.

"Listen to me babbling on," Lady Mary said, rubbing her hands together as she applied cream to them. The scent of rose and lavender was overpowering, and Anna's head spun slightly. "Do tell me to hush, Anna; I'm sure I need to be told to do so more often than anyone ever dares."

She lifted her head, and managed a weak smile in response.

"Tell me, how is Bates? I believe you went to see him just the other day."

"I did, m'lady." Anna tried her utmost to keep her voice from wavering as she laid the hairbrush back down upon the dressing table. "He's as well as can be expected." She knew otherwise, but Lady Mary didn't have to.

"I'm glad to hear it; Papa will be too." There was another small silence. "Do they have a date?"

"Yes, just after New Year." The very thought brought a new wave of anxiety crashing down upon her.

Lady Mary grimaced. "Oh, how awful; to start the New Year in such a way. You would think they would be able to rearrange things with a little more consideration." The look on her face must have told much more than her few words. "Although, I suppose it does not matter at all when it happens. It should not have to happen at all."

"No, m'lady." Anna turned away, moving further into the room, unaware of the steps her feet were taking. She closed her eyes and swallowed the lump that was growing in her throat as Lady Mary's words went on.

"I hope you get the chance to see him again beforehand."

Her hands clasped together upon the crisp apron as she clutched them to her stomach. "I've been granted one more visit, in a few days time."

"That is good news. Something to look forward to, though I know that's not the correct phrase. I know Bates will be relieved to see you again; I should think he's counting down the seconds."

She could not hold back any longer. Before she could clamp a hand to her mouth, a piercing cry escaped from her. She felt at once ashamed for not observing propriety and completely unconcerned about the sudden outpouring. For the first time since the night of the arrest, Anna let her tears flow. Absorbed in them, she had stood unmoving, until Lady Mary had appeared at her side, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. Lady Mary's eyes had filled with concern at the sight, as well a great deal of alarm; she did not know quite how to deal with the emotions of others, especially not ones that emerged so desperately.

"Please excuse me, m'lady."

"You have no need to be excused." She passed over a handkerchief, and Anna began to dab at her eyes. "I'm surprised you could keep it in for so long; I know if it were me, I would be in a mess. I cannot even begin to imagine how you're coping with it all."

Anna took in shaky breaths between her sobs, trying to calm her juddering nerves. "It's just…when I went to visit the other day…," she bunched the handkerchief in one hand and used the other to toy with her apron, focusing her jumbled thoughts. "I know he shields things from me, what he really feels. I understand why; he does not want to hurt me, though I do anyway, regardless of what he does or doesn't say. But it's impossible for him to hide all the time." She kept her eyes upon the frill of her apron, before venturing to look up towards Lady Mary. "I know, m'lady. I see it plain in his face. He acts as if everything has already been decided, his fate sealed. And it is not a favourable one." The tears began to trickle softly down again. "It kills me to think he should be resigned to it…to…," her small voice broke, " _that."_

"Oh, Anna. I'm sure he does not mean it. It must be so dreadfully hard, to face each long day with what seems often like so little hope. His faith must surely be tested." She saw Lady Mary's hand move closer to rest by her side where she sat. "But I am certain he does not truly believe that will be the case. Not when he has so much support on his side; not when he has you."

She sniffed, and raised her eyes to the ceiling, searching for the strength from some higher power but not knowing how much good it would do her if she discovered it. "I have thought about it, m'lady. Thought about the possibility of what could happen." She wasn't sure if she really had, not in a great amount of detail. "Yet I can't dwell upon it. It won't do any good, not for me; not for him. I have to look on the bright side, stay positive. I can't let myself think any other way."

Lady Mary bowed her own head. "Of course not. There is no need to."

"That's it though, m'lady. There is every need." Her voice still wavered, but had a definite hint of insistence. "I have to keep myself strong; I can't give in to any doubt, the thought of things going wrong. Because if I do, just for a second, it will be the beginning of the end. My heart should stop, my feet would fall. Everything would." She brought a trembling hand to her face, wiping her eyes and swallowing hard. A whisper came from her lips. "It would be the end of me."

Lady Mary wore a forlorn and startled expression; her eyes had begun to well a little. For once, she seemed lost for words. The two of them sat in silence awhile as they digested the potential consequence, the judgement that hung in the balance. There was a cough, and then Anna broke the hush.

"I'm sorry, m'lady. I'm being quite irrational. I think my heart is overtaking my head, somewhat. It's not coping well this evening. In fact, it's been having a hard time over the last few nights"

Lady Mary looked up, seeming to be surprised. "Oh?"

Anna sniffed again, and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear. "It's bearing the brunt, and it's getting a little tired. I'm trying to toughen it up, but it doesn't seem to be co-operating." She sighed. "I'm not really sure I have much heart anymore, m'lady; at least, not as much as I need."

"That is news to me," Lady Mary exclaimed. Anna glanced towards her in puzzlement, and saw a smile start upon her face and a flicker in her eyes. "Anna, you have the biggest, bravest heart of anyone I have ever known, and I'm sure anyone I will ever come to know. You may doubt its ability to cope, but I do not. I know it shall remain as courageous as ever."

She smiled back, more sincerely than she had done not just all night but for what seemed like an age. "Thank you, m'lady. That means a lot to me. I just hope it does see me through."

"Oh, it will. But we shall all be there to help too. You do know that?"

"I do."

"You know, there is something Mama says a lot, and as much as it has grated at me over the years, it does have a lot of truth to it.  _Everything will look better in the morning._  I can't say it will seem that way straightaway; it won't. But everything  _will_  be better, Anna. It really will. Once it is all over, and justice has been done, you shall both be able to celebrate properly. We all shall."

Before she was aware, Lady Mary had taken her hand in her own and was holding it delicately. She was more than a little startled by the gesture, but completely overwhelmed by Lady Mary's kindness and her display of friendship.

"Thank you, m'lady. Truly."

"You've no need to thank me, Anna. I should be thanking you, for all you have had to bear with me over the years. Just know that even if it might not always seem like it, I shall be here."

And she had been there, through it all. The same hand was in hers as they sat side by side in the court; at the inn on that hellish night as she shook violently, screamed and cried against all that could have not possibly occurred; as they stood in Downton, hearing the details from the telegram that she hoped against all hope would come, containing the news that he had been given the reprieve. Anguish turning to disbelief, uncertainty and then joy. For weeks afterwards, she would still wake in the middle of the night in a haze of confusion, wondering whether it really had happened, and relief flooded through her instantly on the realisation.

Yet something else stirred within her too. It wasn't resentment exactly; more a deep frustration. She knew it was a little ungrateful of her, especially considering Lady Mary's words after the announcement, but still, she could not prevent from lamenting.  _Bittersweet_ ; that's what it was. A New Year was underway; more than that, a new decade that seemed to hold so many prospects and so much promise, and everyone looked forward to a bright future. She strived hard to see it too, to keep it within her sights, but with each day, each month that passed, the lights flickered out one by one, leaving her in the darkness, leaving her behind. The life that she had dreamed would be theirs, that they had endured so much for to make just the thought a reality for the briefest amount of time, appeared destined never to be. This was one obstacle that seemed just too unconquerable. Life was there, and that was something to be cherished, but it had been altered considerably. Forever would happen, but not exactly in the way she had intended. Sometimes it brought tears stemming to her eyes once more; to think of all the nights they had spent together, talking of the future, revelling in the present. She could never have imagined how empty both would seem to her one day. She had always considered, though she never wanted to, how empty life would be without him. He spoke all the time of it, her life. How it was his biggest wish for it to go on, to be lived as fully as possible. He was simply thankful to have her in his own, in whatever way was possible. As long as she lived out there in the world, he did too. Yet she didn't know how much of a life it would be; not to hold him, not to kiss him. To merely exist, on what was allowed to her. She still believed in him, with every breath and beat of her being, but she wasn't so sure about everything else that she had once held so dear. She needed to believe that it all could still happen; that it would still happen.

Despite her place and position, Anna had never let her life be dictated before. If she had, she would not be where she was now. Now was not the time to start.

Days flowed into weeks, weeks into months. She spent them working tirelessly, and when the nights came, she did not stop. It was what had always seen her through before, to occupy herself, but now it was for a much greater purpose. She stayed up into the small hours, poring over the books she had signed out of the library, working through the list of numbers she had compiled. It was her duty, to do what she could as his wife; to ensure that no stone was left unturned, that every lead, however seemingly insignificant, was pursued. She set herself goals, points in time which she vowed he would be free by: the beginning of spring, their first anniversary, Lady Mary and Mr Crawley's wedding. All of them passed, without the least sign of any development. But she refused to be deterred. There would be something, eventually. She would not rest until it came. She was his lifeline, and she could not let it fade.

The visits continued; always the same, always different. Some were better than others, times when he would be a little less weary, an ember of positivity and hope somewhere deep within his eyes, if she searched long enough. Others would not be as good. He was increasingly physically worn down, not being helped from being forced to walk without his cane. She could discern marks on his arms, bruising on his cheek. The next time she had come, the guards had turned her away at the door; her heart went sick. It had threatened to break more than once over the past months. The difficulty he was having daily took its toll and dark clouds took their hold. She tried her best not to get frustrated or disheartened when he didn't react to the new plans she divulged to him, the intentions she vowed that she would turn into actions. Sometimes he would rest his hand on top of hers, caress it ever so gently, before telling her that she should just let it be, stop tiring herself out; accept that this was it, how life was going to be. She would always respond in the same way.  _"I won't ever stop fighting. I know it will happen."_  She threaded her fingers through his, squeezed his hand in hers.  _"I will never give up, not ever."_

She never had done, not even when it might have seemed easier to do so, in all the times in their past when it was a tantalisingly preferable option. She had always kept on, whatever came their way. But they had never faced something so hard, a time that was so difficult. Time kept marching on and it offered nothing, did not seem to care what it was doing to her. It was ruthless, relentless. The worst enemy. As night followed night, she found herself clinging onto a dream that she could no longer see, the edges falling fast away from her grip. Would it hurt less to let go, to give up? She knew the answer, but it didn't make the question any less complicated. She closed her eyes to nothing, or so she thought.

Very small, off in the distance, it would appear to her. The hope she had in him, for them. The love that still surrounded her, here in the dark. When everything else had seemed to desert her, it never did. He never did. She didn't doubt. She reached out, extended her grasp, clung on with renewed intensity to the unseen dream. It would see her through. She would see them through. It was unthinkable, to come so far and to throw it all up. She would hold on. Hold on for it to happen. She would never give up, even when it seemed like the world had. There was another world, after all; she had always known it was there. It was waiting. He was waiting. The wait would be over, maybe not after tonight, or the next night, or the next, but it would be, soon. Then life could begin, again; the way it was meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to touch upon the meaning behind the heart brooch Lady Mary gave to Anna at Christmas. The actual gift-giving didn't seem to fit anywhere into the chapter while I was writing it, so it probably seems a little awkward. I'm not sure if Mary is a little OOC, but I think she would soften and give Anna that support and reassurance, in such desperate circumstances and when they had this moment to themselves. That's my excuse, anyway.


	10. Chapter 10

Anna lay on her back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, her eyes focused on one small spot there. She blinked slowly, a few times, and then opened them wide once more. Somehow she wasn't agitated or irritated, hadn't worked herself into bother as she was wont to do so often before. Instead she had surrendered; succumbed without objection to her wakeful state. Lying there, her hands resting upon her stomach, on top of the sheets, she felt a great calm surround her. It had been a long time indeed since she had experienced such a sense of peace. She wasn't sure whether she should have been comforted or alarmed. She pondered for all of a second, before deciding simply to accept the unexplained but pleasant effect.  _Stop questioning everything so much._ It was nice, to relinquish just for a little while. It would do her good. The trick was to notice when it was tipping over the edge, to pull everything back in place before it escaped her grasp completely. She would be able to do that. She thought. She found it hard to think of much just now, except the crack in the ceiling plaster that seemed to be widening by the moment, and how achingly tired she was.

A whole night with the complete absence of sleep. Even with so many restless ones that had passed, she still found herself shocked by the fact. If this was the outcome of an early departure to bed, it was little wonder that her natural instincts had given her a predilection for staying up late throughout most of her life. She would have to lie to Mrs Hughes when she would enquire whether she had been able to find the rest she so sorely needed, though she didn't know quite how she would do so convincingly. In so many years, nobody had managed to become adept at hiding anything from the housekeeper, but she was especially useless at trying. Then, of course, there were the tell-tale signs that she was sure had etched themselves even deeper in the space of these few long, yet fleeting hours. She could feel them even before she had run her hand upon her face; they would be blindingly obvious in the light of day, and more so to Mrs Hughes' meticulous eyes. Anna felt bad that she should be the one to prove her wrong, even if it was over something that wasn't of too much concern.  _Your wellbeing is of great concern, Anna, and don't you ever think it isn't. It's the things we take for granted that make all the difference, especially in such times._  There was too much time. There wasn't enough of it. She'd wasted too much of it, tonight. She was beginning to take it for granted.

Oh, she was exhausted. Just a little bit of sleep was all she asked for right now. Not much, just enough to get her through. If she was no longer permitted to dream then surely, it was the very least she could ask for. Yet whatever power was responsible had deigned her simple request to actually be the most unfeasible of all.

Faint shadows had started to form on the ceiling and walls, appearing to her eyes before she was quite aware. They drifted towards the window. Behind the curtains the earliest light had begun to emerge, breaking through softly yet also with unstoppable force, fighting its way past darkness. Quite soon it would overcome it completely. The swiftness of the dawn should not have surprised her. Days and nights all moved so seamlessly now, merging together with it seemed no point to mark their respective beginning or end. She had stopped discerning the distinction between long ago. Now, the rising of the sun was like a revelation. Her eyes went over to the clock on the wall directly opposite. Nearly quarter past five. Not long at all, and a new day would be heralded in the house. A day that would drag by, but be over too soon. A day that brought her a little closer to the one that was taking ever so long to arrive, but was the one, in all the many that preceded it, that she kept arising, longing and, indeed, living, for.

As the night began to fade, so too did her delirium, and she started to wonder what the day ahead would have in store. It was a few days before the family were due to start making their way back, yet preparations could never commence early enough. Everyone would most likely be set into a flurry of fierce action all at once if Mr Carson had his way – and there was no doubt that he would. There was lots to be done, in every room – even the ones that had long gone unused and unoccupied – to get every little thing in order and up to the usual impeccable standards. In some respect, she was quite looking forward to getting involved and being properly busy once more, but the very thought also made her want to curl up and hide. She was quite sure she wouldn't have the energy to stay on her feet for longer than five minutes, yet at the same time she was quite prepared to carry out more than her contribution.

It took her a little while to figure out exactly what day of the week it was. She rubbed at her eyes rapidly, as if the action would somehow help to lift the fog of confusion, and went over the details in her mind. Shepherd's pie for dinner last night, which meant it had been Tuesday night.  _Wednesday._ Her afternoon off.  _Thank God._ She went through the possibilities of how she could spend the precious time. A good few hours in the gardens, picking the flowers before they became victim to the hastening frost; a trip into Ripon if it was really nice. She could be dreadfully and indulgently lazy and return here, use it all attempting to chase the slumber that had eluded her throughout the night. All fine ideas. She knew exactly what she would do. There was something that she'd spotted last week when she was out in the village, an address of a residence in London pinned in a window. It had seemed awfully familiar somehow, and something had struck her immediately when she glimpsed it from the corner of her eye. The early evening bus had arrived before she'd had time to take it down, and all week long it had been running through her head. It was probably the weakest line of enquiry she'd chanced upon yet, but she had already begun to clutch at her fair share of straws without hesitation. She just hoped it would still be there, in the same place as she'd found it. She thought of the long day he would be facing, staring at the four walls that were closing in a little more with each minute; let out for the smallest amount of time amongst strangers, men who were capable of doing God only knows what. His days there were hell, and they had to be over soon. He needed for everything to change. He needed her to be able to make the change.

The rising sun crept underneath the curtains and was sweeping across the bedcovers, bathing her in agreeable warmth. Birdsong sounded in the distance. She was so tired, but she couldn't sleep, not now. The gentle heat resting on her skin was making her drowsy. Soon enough, the knock would come upon the door, as reliable as ever.  _Time to get up_. There was a little time until then, time enough to rest. Her eyes fluttered softly shut against the pale light. She could still behold it behind them.  _I'll just rest like this for a bit; I won't sleep._ Her eyelids shuddered, and the light began to gradually retreat.

* * *

_She made her way along to the hall, walking with a little more care than usual. It felt quite strange here, somehow, and she wasn't quite sure why. Then again, this simple, short journey had always felt a little disconcerting to her now, filled with the memory of that afternoon. It was cold, and incredibly dark; she could hardly make out where she was going. Someone may have left the lights on, she thought to herself. What time of day it was she wasn't sure. Judging by the lack of people around it was either very early, or very late indeed. There was hardly a sound, from anywhere. It was as if the whole house had been vacated without her knowing and she was the only person left, to face whatever the danger was that had caused everyone else to flee. It was really very unnerving._

_As she approached the doorway, there was something. A faint creaking. She stopped short, a swell of fear shooting through her. It was inches away. At once she wanted to run and was compelled to go on. Something else. Sounds she knew. It couldn't be. She held her breath as she tried to discern with her mind before she could see with her own eyes. Just a few steps more, and she would be sure. It was as if she was being held still. Before her eyes blurred completely against the black, she observed a small shaft of light. It was coming from the hall; there was someone there. Half fearful, half fearless, she found herself moving effortlessly all of a sudden, rushing towards the flare. The beaming became increasingly brighter against her eyes, yet they couldn't blind her to the sight that was before her. She felt as if she would drop to her knees._

_There he stood, alone, in front of the table. As always. As if he had been there all along, if only she would have searched. Perhaps it was just because she had been too busy looking elsewhere._

" _Anna."_

_Her name, sounding out soft and sure. Like it was the only word that had ever left his lips since. Reverence, in so many respects. He said it as if it were the prayer that kept him living._

_Once again, she was frozen. He was there, standing right before her. Her hands had flown to her face in utter disbelief; one was still clamped to her mouth as the other rested above her chest. She could feel her heart thudding through it. He looked ever so different, but just the same as all those years ago. He seemed to glow with the light that lay on the side, a light that he was letting out of himself too, and there was a spark in his eyes that radiated. A spark that had always been there, but had been obscured throughout the darkness that had persisted around them. She couldn't quite take it in. He began to move slowly towards her, smiling softly. It broke the spell. Unable to wait any longer, she hurried to close the small distance between them, running as if she had miles to go. Upon her action, he had opened his arms out to catch her, and she fell immediately into them._

_She'd forgotten and remembered instantly just how wonderful it felt, to have his arms wrapped around her, holding her so close to him. Hers circled around him just as intently, and she never wanted to let go. Slight and restrained touches of fingertips replaced suddenly by an enveloping embrace that made up for all the time spent apart. The contact that had been denied for so long was theirs again, sweeter than it ever was. She closed her eyes and savoured the sensation as it washed over her. His hands as they began to drift up and down her back, sending shivers tingling there. Her head clamped itself to his chest, hearing his heart beating steadily. This was real, more so than anything she'd felt in a long while. His hands smoothed over her hair, stroking gently, before he laid the lightest kiss on her crown, as if afraid she would break. She felt herself shake, and the tears come rolling from her eyes._

" _I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."_

_She placed her hands upon his chest as she looked up at him. Her eyes became lost in his own, lost in all of the emotion that was surging and surrounding them. Her voice quivered as she gave her reply._

" _I don't mind. I'm just so glad that you're here."_

_He gazed down at her, bringing his hands up to her face. Cupping her chin gently with one, the fingers from his other wiped the tears away from her cheeks, trailing down to trace the curve of her bottom lip with his thumb. She had never felt so much love as she had in that very instant._

_He stroked the back of his hand across her cheek, before both travelled to rest on her shoulders. "You haven't been sleeping well," he looked deep into her face with concern as he massaged the knots of stress sitting across her spine._

" _Oh, you know me, always staying up too late." She smiled against the sweet sorrow that was still welling within her._

" _But I'm the cause." He glanced down ruefully while his hands continued to caress._

_She touched a shaking hand to his cheek. "It's fine; I'm fine. Now that you're here…"_

_The tears had started to gather in her throat again. She still couldn't believe it. It had been so long; she almost thought she would never see him here again. He took her hand from his face and closed it in his own, trying to soothe her as she was still visibly unsettled. Moving carefully, he led them both to sit down at the table, in the places that they had claimed as theirs. She braced her hand against the sturdy wood as she sat, feeling his other hand rest upon her knee. She kept her eyes upon their entwined hands as they lay upon the table. They remained so as she calmed herself; didn't break apart as they sat in comfortable silence, taking the closeness of one another in once again. In those moments she felt the past months, years, slip away. All of the time spent hurt, lost, and alone forgotten about as they were there, together again. Now again, it was just as it had been so many times before. She had finally been awoken from an awful, horrible nightmare that had gone on for far too long. It was over, at last._

_As amazing as it felt to have him by her side, his hand in hers, she was puzzled at why he should have chosen to come to her here. The place from where he had been taken away from her. She would have thought it was the last place he would want to be. Whenever she was here, throughout all the days and nights, a shiver would still come over her as she walked through the doorway, as she sat, looking out beyond. The feeling of dread and fear that still hung in the air; the agony that panged deep in her heart. It had been tainted, irrevocably, unfortunately. The place where their happiness and hope had come to such an abrupt end._

" _This is where it all it started."_

_He gave her the reminder, though she had never forgotten. It flooded back to her, their first encounter here in the midst of the night, all those years ago. The beginning of everything dismissing what had been to follow so far away in the future._

" _I can't imagine what you must have thought about me then," she remembered how she appeared to him, so terribly flustered and barely being able to disguise the fancy she knew now she had already had for him at that meeting. "Going on in such a way…I look back and think I must have seemed very silly indeed."_

" _Not at all. You were utterly charming. Perfect; just as you always are."_

_She looked up to see him smiling at her, and felt the smile on her own face bloom in response to his words._

" _I have to say, even though I wish for the opposite for you now, I was very glad you were unable to sleep that night."_

" _I was too." Her fingers shifted against his, her thumb stroking his palm. She started to giggle as a vision appeared to her. "I can't help but think; what if another person had come down instead while you were there? Miss O'Brien, perhaps?"_

_His eyebrows raised in horror. "I suspect I would have been immediately overcome by a very urgent need for slumber. In fact, I wouldn't have been able to climb the stairs quickly enough."_

_They both laughed heartily. It was impossible for her to imagine not having arisen that night, for things to have happened any differently than they had. The significance of one little split-second decision seemed astounding, yet somehow not at all._

" _But if that had been the case, I think it would have happened the same way, sooner or later. I would have made sure of it. Even it meant me sitting up here for nights on end."_

_He chuckled softly. "I have no doubt of that whatsoever. How unbelievably glad I have been for your patience, your tenacity, over all of these years. I can't consider where I would be without it." A sigh escaped his lips. "I hate to consider where I would be at all, without you. I doubt I would have lasted quite so long here."_

_She swallowed hard. She couldn't remember Downton before he came there, her life when he hadn't been in it. His absence was all that surrounded her of late. He held her hand tighter in his. It felt like she was holding it for the first time._

" _I had thought my life had changed completely, and that it was all of my own doing. How naïve I was," he looked at their joined hands, where his fingertips were sweeping across her knuckles reverently. "It was you that really changed it, beyond all compare. You have given so much of yourself to me, more happiness than I have ever known and could ever dare to hope for. It would take me a lifetime to find the words that would properly express how extraordinarily happy you have made me; that wouldn't be long enough. And as for giving you all the things you deserve so much in return, well…you can see that my attempts have gone very far from how I hoped they would."_

" _That's not your fault." His eyes turned from her. "You have given me all that I could ever want. More than I ever knew I did." Her eyes bore into him, and brought his own back to meet them._

" _I hope so much that you're happy, Anna. The only thing I ever wish for is for you to be happy. It is all that matters to me."_

_She couldn't look away. "I won't lie and say that I am." His face fell. "But I will be, when you are back to stay. Then I shall be happy for the rest of time."_

_There was melancholy in his gaze as his mouth quirked into a sad smile. He covered his other hand over both of theirs upon the table. She closed her eyes against the new wave of grief that was arising within her; at once, she felt revived and broken into pieces. The aching within her was too much to bear._

" _I miss you so much," her voice came out in a surge of emotion. "I know I can still see you every so often, but it's not the same, it's not enough." She was frustrated, furious; she could not take another second. Everything came rushing from her. "Why haven't you been here? I have needed you so much for so long. Why haven't you been with me when I've needed you here?" Her cries were raw and overwrought; her throat throbbed and she was finding it increasingly hard to catch her breath. "I feel like no matter what I do, I am losing you." The sobs culminated. "And I can't lose you."_

_He looked down into his lap; she didn't have to observe his expression to know of all the guilt and shame that was held there. She'd seen it many times before, and every time, it broke her heart all over again._

" _I have meant to be with you. You must believe me when I say that. I want to be there whenever you need me. Yet I admit, I have been selfish of late."_

_She caught the desperation within his eyes that he was trying hard to restrain as he lifted his head back up, towards her._

" _The days can be bad, certainly. Some much worse than others. I try not to let it show too much, but I suspect you are aware."_

_She nodded, and her eyes were welling once more._

" _Of course you are." He sighed heavily. "But the nights are unbearable. Sometimes I think they will last forever, that I'll never survive to see the other side again. It takes more strength than I possess. So you should know, that when I'm not with you, here, it's because I am keeping you with me. Because I need the comfort, the strength that you are made of. You are what gets me through, night after night."_

_A tear rolled down her cheek. "Oh, John."_

" _I haven't been fair to you. I promise, I shall be here much more often from now on." This time, rather than his fingers arriving to wipe away her tears, his lips came to kiss them away instead. She inhaled sharply and stiffened for a second, before her body became softer as he trailed them further down, leaving the imprint of a gentle kiss upon her cheek._

" _Though you never need look far for me." His voice was a whisper in her ear. "No need to worry. I'll always be right here, with you."_

_She brought her hand to his face, her touch far surer now._

" _And I shall always be with you. I will stay strong. I will keep fighting. Say that you will too."_

" _I promise I will."_

_She knew he was telling the truth and she smiled. Her head bobbed as she fiercely tried to shake away the tears that remained there, tried to portray her conviction in the pledge she had made. His head moved towards hers, and she pulled herself closer to meet it. A tender kiss that she felt with every fibre of her being; a kiss that she had yearned so long for. His forehead rested against hers for moments afterwards, and then his arms came around her again. She melted into the embrace as they sat, not needing to say anything more, just happy to find each other once again. His hand brushed against the side of her face, her shoulder, and then he lay his head there. The same way as he did months before, when they'd last been this close, when forever had seemed to be so nearly over. She smoothed her hands over his hair, across his neck, clasped them against his back. She felt her heart overflow. Light began to flood in through the window, making her eyes hurt. There was a sound not too far away in the distance. She could feel his grip begin to loosen; something was pulling him away from her._

" _No, stay with me," she gasped in panic. "Don't leave me; don't leave me here alone. Stay, please."_

_Her pleas were to no avail; there was nothing that she could do. His head was no longer upon her shoulder, his arms no longer around her. He was not there. All there was was light, white and bright in her eyes, blinding her. Heat washed over her. White all around, until everything went black, and the sound thudded against her ears…_

Anna woke to the familiar rap against her door, followed by the call from outside. Adjusting to being awakened once more, she shifted herself underneath the covers and slowly rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She felt flushed with warmth, not uncomfortably so, although a sheen of sweat had gathered on her head. Her heart was beating fiercely within her chest. Sitting up, resting her hands against the mattress as she extended her body, she glanced carefully around the room. She was a little dazed, still very tired, but somehow considerably refreshed too. Content, even. It was quite unusual; she couldn't say she was used to greeting the morning with a great deal of satisfaction, and certainly not after a night with so little sleep. She felt different. At ease.  _Optimistic_.

Climbing out of bed, she walked over to the window. Already she could see and feel the daylight seeping underneath the curtains, but she was still startled when she pulled them back fully. The storm that had passed over the house overnight had left a predominately blue sky in its wake, brushed delicately with a few white clouds. They couldn't hide the sun though, sitting high and majestic and in the very middle of her view of the horizon. The gardens looked greener than ever, the dewdrops resting on the grass sparkling like little diamonds in the light. She rested her hands against the dressing table, and closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath as well as taking in the glorious sunshine. Despite everything, she hadn't lost the ability to notice beauty, to take heart in and be truly thankful for the little things in life.

Having washed and dressed, she was just preparing to go downstairs and face the day when another soft and swift knock came at the door. Before she could move to answer it, it opened from the other side.

"Good morning, Mrs Hughes. I was just about to come downstairs."

"Good morning, Anna," the housekeeper issued. "And there's no need to rush; we're only just getting things underway. I just came to tell you: there's been a telephone call from Mr Crawley. He and Lady Mary have come back from their holiday early, and arrived in Downton last night."

"Oh." A wave of anxiety and energy rushed over her. "Well, I must get everything ready for Lady Mary at once…"

"There's no need. Lady Mary wished to inform you that she will be staying at Crawley House with Mrs Crawley until the week is out. She wanted to ensure that you needn't resume your duties with her a moment before you had to. Who knew she could be quite so thoughtful?"

Anna laughed a little to herself; while she had softened to her over the last few months, given the increased support she had given to Anna, it was fair to say that Mrs Hughes still wasn't Lady Mary's biggest fan.

"So, no need to worry on that front. But Mr Crawley does want to see you."

Now she did become quite unsettled.

Mrs Hughes' face turned serious. "The reason they came back early was because while they were in London, Mr Crawley received a visit from one of his former colleagues. It was regarding Mr Bates."

Anna's heart flew up into her mouth.

"It seems there has been a development – in its early stages, I have to stress – but Mr Crawley thinks it may be linked to something you mentioned a few months ago. This colleague believed Mr Crawley to have been Mr Bates' representative, but he informed him that he couldn't be directly involved in the case. He did pass on a number to Mr Crawley however, and he wanted to come back as soon as possible to give it to Mr Murray, and to put things in motion."

She thought she may still be dreaming. She needed to sit down. She didn't notice anything, except the pounding in her ears and Mrs Hughes looking at her with worry.

"Anna, are you okay? The colour has drained from your face."

She took a breath and clasped a hand to her hip. "Yes. I'm fine, Mrs Hughes."

"Mr Crawley should be getting here in about half an hour to meet with Lord Grantham to discuss the matter further. Lord Grantham has spoken to Mr Carson, and says that he wishes you to be there. Mr Carson worried that it might get your hopes up unnecessarily, but from everything that has been said, it seems quite important indeed." Her head leaned a little to one side as she regarded Anna. "But I'm sure Lord Grantham would completely understand if you wanted to be excused, if you felt uncomfortable in any way."

"No; I shall be there. Could you tell Lord Grantham that I will be along presently? I just need a minute or two."

"Of course." Before she left the room completely, Mrs Hughes turned to Anna once more. "I hope to God that it all goes well."

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes. I do too."

The door closed behind her, and she turned back into the room. She caught her reflection in the mirror, and saw herself illuminated by the sunlight that was streaming through the window. The shock subsided, and a small smile settled on her face. She inhaled another steadying breath and smoothed her hand down her apron. Even though she knew it was only the beginning, she sensed the change quite clearly. It seemed the night hadn't been in vain.

* * *

The soft strains of the morning light played against her eyes, meaning to prise them open. She welcomed the gentle warmth falling across her face, but she wasn't going to comply just yet. She'd been able to enjoy doing so for a little while, but waking up natural had not lost its novelty for Anna, and this morning she was particularly determined to revel in a gradual awakening. Snuggling her head a little deeper into the pillow, her mind recalled the fragments of a dream that had not long escaped her. From what she was able to make out, it had been a very nice one indeed. She smiled against the cotton pillowcase, keeping her eyes shut in the hope she might bring some of it back. Then a more appealing notion occurred to her.

Shifting onto her other side, she made to snuggle herself into something other than her pillow. She stretched herself out in the bed, a little too easily. Her hands fumbled across the sheets and all she could feel was empty space. Her mind was immediately roused, and panic paralysed her body. The feeling; long forgotten, but all too familiar. In this moment it came over her more acutely than ever before. She flew up suddenly, propelled by fear and confusion.

"Good morning."

She was instantly relieved by the sound of his voice. Her pounding heart began to slow, regulate itself again. Her hands splayed against the mattress, keeping her propped up.

"Hmmm."

Eyes still half-closed, she heard him chuckle at her less than eloquent response. He really had come to know how atrocious she was of a morning, and occasionally took delight in gently teasing her about her grumpiness when he would try to wake her early. Every time, she would hide her face and make a feeble attempt to shoo him away, but he'd simply laugh, stroke a hand across her shoulder before leaving a kiss there. When she would have a full grasp on her senses later in the morning she would get sheepish and a little shamed about her actions, but for some reason he seemed to find it all quite adorable. Leaning against the headboard, she yawned and swiped a hand across her face, blinking in the light and awakening properly.

She couldn't have encountered a better first sight. He was standing at the foot of the bed, dressing for the day. The butterflies that still stirred every time she laid eyes on him fluttered within her reliably, and a smile spread across her lips. She watched his movements carefully; his fingers buttoning the waistcoat, threading the tie, fixing on the collar. It was fascinating to her, and she suspected it always would be. That she was able to witness such an intimate process for herself, and what's more, that she had the sole reservation to doing so – the thrill of it was still relatively new to her, and burned even more fiercely as she regarded him now. Briefly, she luxuriated in the sensation, eyes raking happily over his figure until they drifted up towards the clock that sat just above his head. As she took in the placements of its hands, another habitual shock shot through her.

"My, I thought it was much earlier than that…why didn't you wake me?"

Her feet scrambled against the mattress as she made to jump out in a rush; before she could move, he was at her side, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I didn't think you'd appreciate it," he smiled at her, eyes shining. "Besides, there's no need for you to be up. You heard what Mrs Hughes said – she made it very clear that she does not expect, or indeed want to see you before noon at the earliest. And only a fool would dare to question her."

She could feel the exasperation upon her face, before it set into a small pout. Anna knew only too well the orders that had been issued to her, but that didn't prevent her from wanting to defy them. Though she didn't have to, she always liked to go early and accompany him up to the house; it was a routine that made perfect sense to her. Also, she didn't like to think of spending the whole morning away from him; she understood that other people may find it a little silly, after all this time that he'd been back, but she didn't care. They'd been apart for what had been far too long in their life together, and she was not willing to add any more absence onto that unless she absolutely had to.

His hand crept across the covers. "Also, when I woke during the night, I thought you might have been a little restless. At least, I didn't hear you snoring."

"Cheeky beggar. I wish I'd never told you that."

He let out another low chuckle. "It doesn't put me off." Leaning forward a little, he placed a quick kiss on her cheek. "Did you manage to get enough sleep?"

She sighed softly. "A little more than the night before. It probably won't be very easy for a while."

He placed his hand on top of hers before moving it down slightly, to rest upon the neat swell of her stomach. She couldn't help but smile as she watched his fingers stroke gently against it and his head crane down a little.

"You mustn't keep your mother awake all hours, my darling."

She moved her hand against his and gazed downwards, before threading his fingers through hers. "I think this little one is going to take after its parents, having a preference for the night-time. But it'll be an adventure. We'll manage."

"We'll do more than that." He smiled back at her as he brought their hands to his mouth, kissing the soft skin of hers.

Now, she knew that they would. When she'd first discovered her pregnancy, it had been something of a shock. Of course, she was very much looking forward to the day when they would start their family – in her mind, she had longed for it for years - but it had come sooner than she'd really bargained on. Though she knew he wanted a child as much as her, she did worry rather a lot about how John would react. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be a wonderful father, everything the baby and she could ever need and more, but she knew it was still in his nature to be insecure, and he had required more than a little extra reassurance from her in the months since he had been released. She worried that it was not the right time at all, and spent several nights fretting about how he would take in the news of - what she hoped would be - the happy surprise. It had kept her wide awake, staring at the ceiling as he lay resting by her side. As it turned out, there was no need for that particular bout of insomnia.  _"There will never be an ideal time," he took her hand firm in his, "but that shouldn't stop it from becoming so. And I can think of nothing I want more."_ It was just a matter of adjusting, as best they could. And that was something that they were definitely used to.

It certainly had taken them time to adjust; perhaps a little longer than she had really reckoned it would. They had not been easy by any means, the days but, more so, the nights. Old habits did not come back quickly, and took considerable coaxing to emerge in new surroundings: the cottage that they could finally call their own. At first she would sit up almost the entire night with him, having to almost pull him down to keep him still, make him rest. There would be tiny improvements that took weeks rather than days, but eventually he was able to spend longer than an hour in their bed, and didn't feel uneasy with her lying next to him. Both still had their share of sleepless nights; the ones where he would bolt up, shaking in sudden terror, a memory he wished he could erase from his mind consuming it completely. She would stroke his back softly, whisper soothing words, guide him gently down and back to sleep. Then there would be the ones that he was unaware of, resting peacefully, as she lay racked with irrational fears of what else would be along next to unsettle their rebuilt harmony. She'd climb out quietly, leaving him in slumber, and creep down the stairs, walking out all of her worry. As soon as she slipped back beneath the covers, his arm would fix itself upon her waist, and she would be calm again. She'd turn over, into his embrace whilst he still slept, and drift off too, leaving her cares to fade. Many other nights they'd mutually delay their sleeping, devoting hours to their new routine: lying there face-to-face in their bed, huddled close, talking about everything and nothing. Sharing all about the days that had been, and the days that were to come. Anna smiled to herself just to think of it; it was her favourite thing to do, and made her look forward to the nights even more.

Reluctantly, he unfurled their hands and placed hers delicately back upon the bed. "I really should go now."

"I'll be up and ready soon, and follow along in about a half an hour or so."

He looked at her with just a hint of disapproval, and a lot of trepidation. "But, Anna…"

"John Bates," she leaned forward and screwed up her face, trying to look as stern as she possibly could. "You know better than to try and argue with me at this time of the morning. And you need to know it's definitely not advisable to argue with a pregnant woman."

A wide smile split across his face, and he kissed her forehead before heading towards the door. "Enjoy your lie-in."

She heard his footfalls upon the stairs, the front door shut behind him moments afterwards, and lay her head on the pillow. Snuggling back down, resting her hands upon her belly, she made herself comfortable amongst the covers. It would be quite tempting to stay here for the entire morning, she conceded. She had been permitted, after all; she shouldn't seem ungrateful by not taking advantage. A giggle escaped her lips as she closed her eyes against the beaming light. Perhaps given a little time she would be able to drift back off to sleep and rediscover the dream that had contented her so, although she was unable to remember much of it now. She knew it involved the both of them, and the baby, not long born, and that they were on their first family holiday, somewhere by the sea. She could feel the cool, fresh breeze on her face; the warm, wriggling bundle of the newborn babe wrapped in her arms, as well as the warmth of his arm circled around her and his breath against her ear. The picture-perfect vision sent a tingling sensation running through her. A dream that not so long ago seemed absolutely impossible was now much closer to reality. Anna smiled at the wonder of it all.

Still wrapped up in her own reverie, the thought drifted into her head of a night from a few months back; one of the first nights that they'd spent lying together, talking, and simply getting used to being with one another in such a way again, after what had been an eternity. As they lay side by side in the dark, he started to speak of the night before the first call came; the call that had been the breakthrough he'd hoped would but feared never could arrive, the beginning of the long journey towards freedom. It had been a particularly troubled evening, with many of the other prisoners being especially unsettled, and him being in a great deal of pain. The night was long and almost devoid of any rest, until, just before dawn, he'd managed to get some sleep. While he slept fitfully, he dreamt. On the nights that he was able to, he would always dream of her; waiting somewhere out in the world, calling to him, pleading with him to remain strong. But on this occasion, the dream was different. He was there with her too, and they were sitting in the servants' hall, just as they had done so often before. As if they would do so again. It was the very first time since his incarceration that he had dreamt of them being together, and of being back at Downton. He had not allowed himself to put so much faith in dreams, but something had felt different about that one. He remembered vividly waking that morning to see a bright ray of light streaming onto him through the small barred window, and feeling, perhaps truly for the first time, a renewed sense of hope. And then, later that afternoon, the call had came. It was very strange indeed, but quite incredible. He could see the tears fill her eyes and stroked his hand across her face.  _It's okay._ His hand came down to rest upon her shoulder.  _We've got them all back now._ Forever could start, properly.

For Anna, it was time for the day to start. She stretched herself, placed her feet on the floor and carefully got out of bed. Just before she reached the wardrobe to collect her clothes, she stopped and gazed down. Smiling, she rubbed her hands over her stomach.

"I see you've gone to sleep now. You are most definitely a night owl."

There would be many more sleepless nights ahead of them in the future, that much she knew. But she could not wait for them to arrive. And after all, it was not like they hadn't had the time to get used to them.


End file.
